


The Griffon and the Hawk

by HeroMaggie



Series: Anders Needs Hugs [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders needs Hugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hugs, Kirkwall is a terrible place filled with Horrible Things, Relationship(s), Romance and Fluff, Slow Build, Smut...eventually, Story Retelling, This is a very slow build...so slow..., Took the canon and sidestepped a bunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 65
Words: 86,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Centered around the theme of Comforting Anders.</p><p>Marian Hawke is an apostate in Kirkwall just trying to get by without being caught by the Templars or murdering her family.</p><p>Anders is an ex-Warden and apostate with a painful past.</p><p>This is a look at how their relationship progresses through the game, their thoughts and fears, and how the two of them find a measure of solace with each other in the chaos that is Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delazeur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delazeur/gifts).



> This entire story was prompted by the thought that Anders Needs Hugs and my on going discussion with delazeur. It started out as a one-shot that has grown into 7 separate short stories. This will be a full-length story that delves into the relationship between Hawke and Anders. 
> 
> A Silver Pendant to Remember Me is a prologue, of sorts, though isn't a necessary read for this. You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754387
> 
> All characters and settings belong to Bioware.

Dusty, grimy, and filled with broken furniture, the room was more hovel than anything else. Anders took a look around and mentally removed the grit and detritus and saw the potential. Better than the open space, the high windows, and the proximity to the refugees was the cost – next to nothing - provided he promised free healing to the Carta members who “patrolled” this section of Darktown. Anders shook the dwarf’s hand, eyes still roaming the room. Yes, this would work just fine for his plans.

***

Time passes almost unnoticed when the only measure was if dark or light was seen through the high windows. For Anders, the slow slide of months blended together in an unending line of broken bones, broken men and women, children sobbing and babes being born. In the rare quiet moments, he sits back and tries to remember the before. Before Kirkwall, before the clinic, and he finds that, at times, he can’t. When those times hit he panics, flying to his small chest of belongs to touch the pieces that help him remember who he is. The chest doesn’t contain much: a small pillow, a knit scarf, a cat’s collar with bell, dried flowers, and a pale green nightgown….his hands hover over each item, stroking and touching until the memories return to him. Sometimes they bring tears, sometimes just tiny smiles. The one memory he keeps close to him, around his neck, is a small pendant. Worn from constant rubbing, the silver shows the outline of a gryphon on one side and the name of a woman on the other. Now, sitting in the quiet gloom of the clinic, his fingers work over the tarnished metal and he sinks into memories of happier times. He is only allowed a few minutes of recollection before he is prodded back to work, his head-mate reminding him of their shared purpose. As he pulls out paper, he feels his constant companion prod at the memories, circling around the ones of the woman with a restlessness and sorrow that they both share. In a moment of pity, Anders bends his head to work on their passion in the hopes that the work will banish the sorrow both of them feel. After a minute, the spirit joins him and they both work through the night hours.

***

Kirkwall was less the City of Chains and more the City of a Billion Stairs, at least that’s what always went through Marian Hawke’s mind as she climbed yet another grouping of the blighted things. She could understand the reference to chains; this had been a city of slaves. It was hard to forget, what with the statues and the quarry walls, but it wasn’t the defining feature for Marian. No, it was the stairs. They stood between her shack of a home and the status and wealth of Hightown. Of course, they also stood between the safety of her home and the wretchedness of Darktown.

The Hawke children had been in Kirkwall for a year. A year of mercenary work, a year of slaving to pay off the hefty bribes it had taken to even get them into this pit of a city. Marian hated it. She hated Kirkwall. It was all stone: hemmed in and ridged. There was no give in the city, no softness. She missed the open spaces of Ferelden. She missed the warmth of the people, the fields, the forests, and even the dogs. Kirkwall and the Free Marches seemed as warm as a Chantry pew, which was to say, not at all. But what could they do? The Blight had taken Lothering and her sister from them and left her in this city of stone and chains with a grieving mother, a thieving uncle, and a disgruntled younger brother.

Which was why she was in the Hanged Man with one dwarf and said cranky sibling. The Hanged Man was a true dive. Sticky floors, sticky tables, smelly ale and smellier clientele, it fit the bill for Lowtown’s finest. Varric herded them up to his rooms on the second floor, a surprisingly clean and well-decorated space. Marian’s eyebrow rose at the expensive furniture and rugs adorning the second-rate room. She wasn’t as surprised as she should be, but still, perhaps this dwarf was more businessman than she gave him credit for.

“So, here’s the deal. You join the expedition and receive equal shares. That gives the expedition the coin needed to properly delve into the deep roads. All that’s left is to find a way in.”

“What? We don’t have a way in? Don’t you think that would have been your first concern?”

“Hah! We had one but it turned out to be a bust. However, I’ve heard rumors there is a Ferelden Grey Warden in town. We find out where, we may be able to wrangle some information out of them.”

Marian bit her lip as she thought. “Ferelden Grey Warden? I thought our two wardens were, you know, involved with each other. One on the throne, and the other his elven mistress.”

“I’m just telling you what the rumors say. Worth a look. While you check that out, I’ll see if I can find more information out. Maybe we won’t need the Warden.” Marian’s snort made Varric laugh. “Right. I’ve heard tell of a Ferelden woman who might have news. Want to check her out?”

Carver shifted, “Ferelden woman?” Marian rolled her eyes and shook her head. “What?”

“Nothing brother. Nothing. Alright. I’ll track this woman down and see what she knows. Tomorrow. I’m heading home for a rest. And Dodger needs a walk.”

“Fereldens and their dogs,” Varric’s eyes twinkled. “See you tomorrow then, Hawke.”

“Right. Tomorrow. Come on Carver.”

***

Lirene’s shop had been depressing. Marian had taken one look at the line of refugees and felt her heart clench. It was disgraceful how her countrymen were treated. None of them had wanted to come to Kirkwall. The Blight had swallowed their homes, eroded their happiness, and eventually pushed them into cities like this hell hole. And once here, their sense of self-worth was slowly chipped away till begging was acceptable. This could be her, she thought. This could be mother. Those thoughts had propelled her to ask about the Warden, to meet the suspicious looks and barbed questions with less vitriol than she would have normally dished out.

It hadn’t softened the blow of finding out the Warden was a mage, however. An apostate and running a free clinic – two tidbits of information that lodged in her chest, burrowed into her heart. She didn’t want to form any preconceived notions, though she was already conjuring up visions of an older man who looked like her papa and smelled of elfroot and licorice. He would have kind eyes and slightly gnarled hands and would be amenable to helping. Her brain couldn’t find a reasonable reason why this paragon of virtue was a Warden, but that was ok.

Unfortunately, neither Carver nor Aveline, her closest friend and confidant, were convinced that talking to this Warden was wise. He was a mage, an apostate, a refugee, an unknown. He could be a murderer, a thief, a charlatan, and would bring down the full might of the Templars. It never failed to amaze Marian how ready they were to throw other mages to the dogs in an effort to hide her, and it never failed to make her cranky.

So they had grabbed Varric and descended into Darktown, the warren of filth and smells that ran under the city proper and dumping ground for all undesirables. Currently, that included almost every Ferelden refugee that had found their way into the city. She stepped carefully around the piles of refuse, leading her small group into the bowels of the slums. There, in the back corner of the gloom, burned a lantern. They had past several burning lanterns but this one shimmered before two open doors and seemed to beckon them closer. Marian peered through one door and then waved at her companions. Yes, this must be the place.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders had had a bad day. It had started out before the sun's rays could reach the high, dirty windows in his clinic. He had woken to the fearful cries of a child come to fetch him to save his mum. He hadn't been able to; the woman had been knifed during a fight over a silver piece found in the sewer and had succumbed to infection. The day had gone downhill from there. He was now fighting to save a young man, little more than a child. The boy's soul was half in the Fade and it took every last ounce of Anders' strength to keep him from slipping further from them. Straining, he slowly re-knit tissue, re-grew organs, and brought the boy back from the brink. One final push and the boy opened his eyes, his mother racing to hold him close. Anders nearly collapsed, would have if the boy's father hadn't been there to catch him. Exhausted, nearly drained, and starving for a meal, he leaned against one of the support pillars to catch his breath.

The quiet clink of armor carried across the clinic. In his weakened state, Anders could barely hold on to himself, had to fight to not give in to the other consciousness that shared his head. He grabbed his staff, spinning to meet the threat head on. “I have made this place a sanctum of healing. Why do you threaten it?”

The words vibrated in the air between him and the group. He held himself still, eyes traveling over the four invaders: two warriors, one dwarf pointing a crossbow at him, and a young woman with a stunned expression. It was the woman that caused him to pause, something in her face making him take a closer look. Young, he thought, and a Ferelden refugee. She looked half-starved, though still better off than the other refugees that visited. She clung to a staff, though it wasn't held aggressively and instead appeared to be supporting her as she leaned against it, which made him think apostate, a Ferelden apostate refugee. Her eyes captured his and he saw confusion mirrored there.

Marian had been walking across the clinic when the healer caught her eye. He was tall, blond, and, well, a lot younger than she had been expecting. She had slowed her walk, mesmerized by his healing, by his concentration. Was this the Warden? Wasn't he supposed to be old and well, old? Aveline's guard armor clinked into the quiet and she watched the healer spin and challenge them, though the words flew past her with little meaning. She could only stare in confusion at the man, the very attractive man, and try to kick start her brain.

“Ah. Hi.” And there it was. Marian Hawke was fearless in the face of change, Templars, darkspawn, her mother, her entire family, Aveline, bandits, the occasional demon enticement, and poverty. She liked to think that she saved all of her finesse for her spells, that conjuring electricity required every last ounce of concentration she had, but the reality was that she had never been comfortable in a lot of social situations. She liked to think that she had outgrown this trait; that she had matured past the bumbling teenage years of swallowing her foot while speaking to perfect strangers. Andraste's knickers, she had spoken to many men. She wasn't some wilting virgin. But there was something about this man that made her tongue and brain turn into knots. “So, ah, we aren't here to cause problems. We heard you were with the Wardens? Yes? And we could use some help so we....barged in...to your open clinic and I'm not saying you have to help us, but it would do us a world of good if you could...” she clamped her lips shut and tossed a desperate look over her shoulder at Varric. The look clearly said “help me!”

“What Hawke means is that we are here about your maps.”

She watched as the man's eyes narrowed. “Were you sent by the Wardens? Because if so, I’m not going back. They made me give up my cat, poor Pounce. Said he made me soft.” Now Anders clamped his lips shut, exhaustion and hunger making him babble as badly as the poor girl. He eyed the group again, his gaze skipping over them as he looked for threats.

“Erm. No, we aren’t from the Wardens. Or here about cats, though I’d love to hear about your cat…sometime. My name is Marian Hawke? Yes. Call me Marian…or Hawke…and we are definitely here about maps. Of the Deep Roads. For my expedition.” She cast a glare at the group behind her, and prodding a tall man in the chest with her staff to push him further back, moved closer to Anders. “If I say please and bat my eyelashes, can I have the maps?”

The tall man groaned. The woman holding the sword and shield simply shook her head. The dwarf laughed in delight. Anders felt his lips twitch at her hopeful look. “I would die a happy man if I never have to see the Deep Roads again. Though…a favor for a favor? Would that work? You help me, I help you, we all end up happy. Well, happier at least.”

The offer stopped her short and she pondered his words. “We aren’t seriously thinking of trading favors with an apostate, are we Marian?” the tall man hissed at her. She turned to glower at him.

“Hello. Apostate right here. Talking to the other apostate. This is…apostate business. Go soak your head, Carver.” Her glower morphed into a smile when she turned to face Anders. “Alright. I’ll bite. A favor for your maps. Anything to get the maps and get them out of here before I set somebody on fire. Not that I am any good with fire…”

“Aren’t you worried about what I’ll ask you to do? I could ask for the Knight Commander’s head on a pike.”

She blinked, stared at him for a moment, and then doubled-over in laughter. “Oh boy. Well. I mean, I suppose it’s possible you could ask me that. I…wait. You aren’t asking me that? Right?” She straightened and shot him a suspicious look, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Because…if you are…I’d probably still say yes but it would be a failed endeavor.”

Now he did chuckle a bit and shake his head. Moving in closer to her, he tipped his head down so he could speak quietly. “I need help getting a friend of mine out of the Gallows.”

Her blue eyes met his honey-brown in surprise. “Tell me about your friend.” Her head tilted in curiosity.

“His name is Karl. He’s from Ferelden. We’ve been talking for months now but suddenly, well, his letters stopped coming. I’m worried. He’s supposed to meet me at the Chantry tonight. Help me get him away and I’ll give you the maps.”

Leaning back against her staff, she turned her eyes to his ceiling and pondered. Help a mage escape the circle, tempting request. Those eyes currently burning holes into her were also tempting, though Marian tried to block those thoughts from her mind. A Ferelden mage, her mind worried over the offer. Finally, she straightened. “We have a deal. I can’t leave any mage to rot in the Gallows. Horrible place. Terrible how we’re treated here.” She smiled at his surprise. “Yes, well, I have a soft spot for mages and Fereldens. Tell me your plan and we’ll get it done tonight.”

Taking her arm to move her further back into the clinic, Anders leaned in to explain his plans for rescuing Karl. Marian tried to pay attention, she really did, but the healer was very distracting. She was absolutely enthralled with the feathers decorating his coat. What purpose did they serve? Didn't they fall off? Where did he get them? And more importantly, would her robes look good with some feathers? She realized the man had quit talking and was looking at her with a bemused expression and she tried to school her features into earnest interest instead of simply staring at him slack-jawed. She didn't think it had worked.

“Did you hear a word I said?” Anders' voice betrayed exasperation.

“Um, well. I heard you say the word Karl...and Chantry...and then I got distracted by your feathers. I'm sorry. Can we go over it again? I swear I'll listen this time.”

Her wide-eyed plea made him grin. Torn between wanting to shake her and the unholy urge to laugh, Anders tried a sigh and then went over his plan from the beginning. This time, he asked her to repeat what he had said, still fighting the urge to simply chuckle. When the plan had been reviewed three times, because Marian had gotten distracted yet again by his feathers, they rejoined her group. Her unhappy and fidgety group.

“Ok! So, we will meet you by the Chantry tonight, yes. Yes we will, Carver. And we will get your friend out, yes you have to come Aveline. And then, we will discuss your maps.” He was amused to see all of her babbling and feather-brained behavior left when she was confronted by her friends. She waved her arms in exasperation as the young man named Carver started in on a tirade about Templars and getting caught. She glanced back at him and rolled her eyes. “We're LEAVING!” she bellowed, making shooing motions with her hands.

“Oh, and you can call me Anders,” he called as an afterthought, even more amused to realize she had told him her name but neglected to ask for his. She sent him a beaming smile and nod.

As they exited the clinic, Hawke turned and waved once at Anders. It would have been charming if she hadn't tripped over a stool and smacked herself in the back of the head with her staff. Her blush was practically glowing and he just shook his head as she flitted from the room. _Well,_ he thought, _that was different. And new. And she's a rather pretty little thing, if a bit prone to babbling._ His head-mate swam to the forefront of his consciousness at that and he shook his head again, this time at the nagging coming from his own mind. It wouldn't have mattered if Hawke had been homely and boring, she had offered to help. In his eyes, that made her a person of deep interest.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke wasn’t sure what all had happened back at the Chantry. It had been a hazy, chaotic mess of Templars, blue lightning, screaming, Carver yelling at her, and tears. Maybe not in that order, and maybe the screaming had been from Carver, or her…or Anders…it was hard to tell. Schlepping back through Darktown, one maybe-abomination leading the group, Hawke had to question the sanity of the entire Deep Roads expedition. She had, in short order, agreed to accumulate a ridiculously large amount of coin so that they could brave – and that was a word she used loosely here – the darkspawn filled, taint covered, giant hole in the ground known as the Deep Roads. To get there, she had agreed to help a mage who may or may not be an abomination but who was most definitely not just a mage and happened to have the cutest bum she’d seen in a long time.

That last thought had caused Hawke’s entire brain to seize up and she tripped up the last set of stairs causing said maybe-abomination-but-possessor-of-fine-rears to catch her before her face met the suspiciously tacky-looking floor. It wasn’t one of her most shining moments. Anders had released his grip on her as if she was carrying ten different plagues and had gone to unlock and wrestle open the clinic door. Eyes on the struggle, she murmured at her group, “Let me talk to him. You all stay here.”

The amount of bitching being done behind her was staggering, though not unexpected. Carver was doing the majority of it. He didn’t like the mage. He didn’t like Darktown. He didn’t like being left behind. He didn’t like that she was in charge. Aveline was a close second with a laundry list of reasons why this all fell under the “Illegal and Stupid” heading. Varric was simply being nosy. With a deep sigh, and a quick tug at her hair, she swung back around to face her group. “I said to stay here. You don’t like how I lead, you lead. Fine. Just give the word and I’ll go home. I’m going to talk to him and you can’t come. Simple. I’ll fill you all in later. Over a pint or three.” And with that, she stomped through the now open doors of the clinic.

Anders had his back to the doors, shoulders slightly hunched and her entrance caused said shoulders to tighten and curl inward even more. Just watching him nearly cowering made her feel sad. Maker, she thought, what a night. Coming up to stand behind him, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Anders? I think maybe we should talk about this?”

The shoulders shook slightly and she panicked. _Oh Andraste’s Fluttering Flames, he’s crying,_ she thought. _Maker help me, what do I do?_ Her hands flexed for a moment and then she, awkwardly, wrapped her arms around his waist. _Skinny bugger,_ was what filtered through her mind, _but solid. Coat needs a brushing. Tall…he’s tall…wow…tall. I thought I was tall but this is tall. Is this helping? Should I maybe squeeze tighter? I’d give ten sovereigns to know if this is helping._

Anders had frozen when her arms had wrapped around him. He had been trying his hardest to not laugh. Part of him was terribly numb from what had happened, from having to kill Karl, from seeing his former lover and friend made Tranquil. But a small part of him had felt better hearing Hawke yell at her companions, had been amused at her tripping up the stairs, had been touched that she wouldn’t subject him to a public discussion of what had happened. So he had been trying very hard to not laugh in a slightly nervous and crazy manner when Hawke’s arms had wrapped around him. He could feel her pressing against his back. It had been a long time since anybody had physically hugged him, much less a woman, and there was a moment when he worried about his body’s reactions.

It occurred to him after a few minutes that Hawke was not letting go, but was, in fact, hugging him tighter. He wheezed a bit, patting at her hands. That didn’t seem to work, so he lifted his arms and twisted, bringing himself around to face her while still wrapped up in what was turning into the longest hug he’d had in, well, months. Arms in the air, he wondered what to do now. She had her face pressed into his shoulder and he worried she was going to suffocate. Sighing, he finally dropped his arms to encircle her and she relaxed, leaning back to look into his face.

“So…” aiming for casual but mainly sounding nervous, “Ah, how are you? Because…what a night, am I right? Oops! Still hugging you…I can’t seem to unlock my arms. You look so sad. And I’m so sorry about Karl, but I am mildly worried that you are an abomination? And if so, I am hugging an abomination.”

At that statement, she let her arms drop and stepped back. He could actually see her trying to settle her thoughts, her eyes widening with worry and her lips clamping together tightly. She flapped her hands in his general direction and gave him a pleading look.

“No, I’m not an abomination. I…it’s a long story.”

Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest, foot tapping. Still no words, but this conveyed a wealth of meaning to him so he continued, “Before I came to Kirkwall I met a Spirit of Justice. He had gotten stuck in our world. His…ah…host body was decaying. I offered to join with him. I think he might have died if I hadn’t.”

She pondered this, her foot still tapping a steady beat. “So, are you like two people sharing one body? Because that would be terribly confusing. Who operates the arms? What happens if you have a disagreement on where to go?”

“No, we’re one person, one mind. I can hear his thoughts as if they were my own. I can’t control him or when he appears. It’s usually when I’m mad. I’m afraid that this entire experiment went wrong. My anger, it’s turned him into more vengeance than justice.” All the spark seemed to drain from Anders and he slumped. His hand shook slightly before he smoothed back his hair and he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.

Marian pondered what he had said. She turned his words over in her mind, all the while watching the expressions flit over his face. It occurred to her that he expected her to leave, to march out of the clinic and write him off. That made something in her hurt, to know he was so alone. It also occurred to her that she could use a friend, another mage, somebody who understood what she felt. _Not that,_ her brain argued, _Aveline wasn’t a good friend._ But it wasn’t the same. This man needed her as much as she needed somebody like him. So it seemed only natural for Marian to take his hand, to press it warmly and smile at him. “We can’t always predict how our actions will pan out. What you did, it was…it was noble and selfless and kinda sweet. I can’t fault you for it.”

“Kind, wise and beautiful. You must have made a deal with a desire demon yourself.” If Anders had had his hand free he would have slapped himself. He half expected her to slap him. Justice was mentally slapping him, and he felt it was completely warranted. He watched her eyes widen, the flush of red slip up her neck – and wasn’t that interesting how the flush seemed to wash up her body as if it started at her toes – and her hand tightened around his. There was honest-to-Maker panic in those blue eyes. He thought it was because he had scared her.

It was because Marian was fighting a losing battle with returning such a sweet sentiment, at least in her mind, with something garishly tacky. “Er…” she battled hard against the bad come-ons and puns, “I…”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t presume. It’s just, I feel like I know you.” Now it was Anders’ turn to flush slightly and look panicky.

“Ah, no. It’s alright. I…it’s alright.”

Standing together, holding hands, blushes spreading, both mages looked at each other and wondered just what the hell was happening and how they had, both of them, gotten into this mess.

“My maps are yours, as am I if you have need of me.”

That caused Marian to drop his hand and start coughing, her eyes closing. _I’ve killed her,_ thought Anders. _I used to pull off casual flirty so well. Damn it Justice, this is all your fault!_ He rubbed her back in gentle circles till she was just gasping and not making choking noises. When she realized he was touching her, she slowly backed away. “Thank you…um. Yes. Well then. I had best go gather up the group. Before they come running in here to see why it’s taking so long. And Maker help you if Carver sees you touching me, he’s such a tit. So…perhaps…I’ll be down tomorrow. Yes. And good night Anders.”

She continued backing away from him, eyes on his face. He winced a bit when she tripped over a stool, but she hopped back up and fled his clinic before he could check on her. He looked down at his hand and then back to the door where he could hear her yelling at her friends. Justice prodded at him. At first he thought it was so he’d get back to work but then he realized that even Justice was baffled by the young woman. His head shake seemed to come from him and Justice. With another glance at his hand, he turned back to his desk. Settling down, he pulled out paper and pen. But as he started to write he realized his mind wasn’t on the plight of mages but instead on a young woman with blue eyes who had cared enough to offer him comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, so far, a fast-writing story. I've got 11 chapters down so I'm going to edit some of what I have and get it up here.

Marian stood just outside of the Darktown clinic, satchel thrown over her shoulder, and shifted on her feet. She would glance into the clinic, see Anders bent over a table mixing potions, and then slide out of view again. A minute or two of nervous shifting and she'd be back to glancing into the clinic. After about ten minutes of restless shuffling, she finally gathered her courage and stepped through the door.

“Hey Anders,” voice kept carefully casual, she moved slowly between the cots in the great hope that she could have a visit with the healer that didn't involve her tripping or falling or breaking something. “I brought you some food...”

“Marian, should you be down here without your brother? This isn't the safest part of Kirkwall, you know.”

That question stopped her forward momentum and propelled her back into nervous shuffling. _Perhaps she was bothering him. He is a busy healer, Marian_ , her brain pointed out helpfully, _and you are a feather-brained ninny who ambushed him with hugs and called him an abomination._ She winced at the memory of the night before, rampant hugs and hand holdings galore. He looked over at her when he realized the clinic had gotten quiet and noticed her nervous rocking. 

“Are you ok?”

“Er. Well. I didn't bring Carver because, as I pointed out last night, he's a tit. He refused and then told Mother and then I had two lectures so I just grabbed the satchel I had put together and left. Knowing him, he's at the Hanged Man or Blooming Rose drowning his sorrows. And Aveline is busy right now and I don't think we want Varric writing down our talks...and...ah. I'm ok by myself. I mean, a lot of the refugees are Ferelden.” She held out the satchel, face turning pink. “So here. I can leave if you're busy.”

Slowly standing, Anders moved to take the gift. It was heavy and bulging and it confused him a bit. Opening it, he pulled out a corked bottle. Placing it on the table behind him, he continued to unpack the satchel. Two loaves of bread, a small wheel of cheese, some sausage, and a selection of fruit later and he looked over to the still shuffling Hawke. “You...brought me all this?”

“Well...” Marian turned her eyes to the ceiling, trying to find anything to focus on that would ease her anxiety, “when I, um, hugged you last night? You felt, ah, really skinny. Not that there's anything wrong with skinny . I think it looks good on you.” Her eyes crossed. “Maker take me now for saying stuff like that. Anyway, I realized you probably don't get enough to eat and, well, I am making all the money so if I wanted to donate a silver or two to feed you that's my business. I'll just kill more bandits to make up the difference.” Her inhale was loud in the sudden silence. She bit her lip and turned her gaze to the wall behind Anders. “I hope you like cheese.”

Anders looked down at the pile of food and then over to the reddening woman currently rocking back and forth and practically wringing her hands. “Thank you. This is...thank you.” Hands outstretched, he moved to Marian and took her hands in his, giving them a light squeeze. “You didn't have to.”

Eyes finally meeting his, she beamed at him. “No, but I wanted to. Isn't that what matters?”

Anders was rendered speechless. He stared at her for a moment, mind in a fog. He felt warm, very warm, and wanted and happy and....she was giving him the strangest look. He watched her tighten her grip on his hands and then almost jump away from him. “So...you were mixing potions? My papa taught me some potion craft. You eat, I'll mix.”

Marian moved over to the table with his herbs and started sorting. He watched her for a moment, worried she would make a mess or not be quite as proficient as she had said. A few minutes later and he was eating, watching her mix potions and hum a disjointed yet pleasant tune. She appeared to know exactly what she was doing and handled the herbs with grace and competence. It was completely at odds with her babbling and clumsiness.

“So your father was an apostate?”

Marian hummed a yes. “He was circle-trained. But, well, there was some unhappiness with the Circle so, yeah. He met my mother here in Kirkwall and it was love at first glance. I think he was both happy and sad when my magic showed itself, you know? He was thrilled that he got to teach me, but he was sad because he knew what kind of life a mage could expect.”

“So he taught you? That's...amazing. See? We don't need to be shut away to learn how to control our abilities. If we just had a mentor, somebody who could guide us...I'm...rather jealous.”

She chuckled, turning to face him. “I rather agree. I don't think I'd be a very good Circle mage. My sister? She would have been a model mage, you know? Perfect manners, always so sweet-tempered, great control of her abilities. I wish...I wish she was still with us. I mean, she wouldn't have liked Kirkwall anymore than I do. The Templars would have worried her terribly. But...” She sighed and turned back to the herbs. “Anyway, Papa taught us herb lore and as much as he could about magic. I wish I had access to the Circle's library. It would be amazing to see all the books. I just don't, you know, want to stay.”

Anders chuckled and started packing away the leftovers. “I wouldn't want you to stay there either.” She watched his lips curl up into a little half-smile and tucked her head, a blush leaking up her neck. Flushing redder as he joined her at the table, she turned her eyes back to her work. He watched for a few minutes as she mixed another potion, her hands deft with the little vials. “Do you heal any?”

She bit her lip, keeping her focus on the work in front of her. “Ah, not as such. I mean, I can cast a healing spell but it's nothing spectacular. I'm much better at ice and electricity. But I know enough basic first aid to bandage and treat wounds.”

“You know,” Anders grabbed some of the herbs to sort for another potion, “If you ever wanted to learn, well, you could come here. I wouldn't mind the help and I could show you how to heal. I don't usually get helpers who are, well, mages.”

Her smile filled her face and for a moment all he could do was just stare at her in wonder. He watched as her eyes grew wide and bright. Before he could say another word, she hopped off her stool and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a quick, tight hug. She broke the hug almost immediately to dance around the clinic, happiness in each movement. “I'd love to! I haven't had anybody to talk about magic with in forever.” She made one more circuit before she glanced at the windows and stopped. “Oh! I'm going to be late! I have to meet Aveline about a job. Bandits. Unless...do you want to come along? I mean, unless you are busy. I'd understand...”

Shaking his head in amusement, Anders stood. “Let me get my staff. Why brave bandits without a healer when I can come along?”

Beaming, she pulled him into another quick hug. “Thank you! That's...thank you!”

He shook his head again, not sure what to do with her or how to handle her almost obsessive need to hug him. Justice was sitting in the back of his head, there but not saying anything. He was rather surprised at that, having expected the spirit to be against all of the touching. Justice offered a memory of the Warden Commander and they both pondered the similarities between the two women. He could only pat at a small charm under his robe and grab his staff, not sure if he was ready to prod at those thoughts. He just figured he'd enjoy the companionship being offered him now.


	5. Chapter 5

Anders was enthralled with Hawke’s verve in battle. She did nothing half-way. Whether it was unleashing chaotic electricity storms or engaging the enemy directly in melee combat, she threw herself into the fight with every ounce of her ability and passion. He watched her walk with Aveline, the two women discussing in earnest the upcoming confrontation with the main group of bandits. Aveline was poking Hawke pretty forcefully in the arm and telling her to stop running into the thick of the fight. Hawke was ignoring the poking in favor of telling Aveline where she could shove her suggestions. They bickered like sisters.

A chuckle made him look over and down at the dwarf walking next to him. “They are pretty amusing, right? You should have seen them on the way to the Chantry. I thought Hawke was going to punch Aveline in the nose. Which is pretty brave, in my book. Aveline scares the pants off me.”

Anders made a non-committal noise, his eyes on Hawke. “Is she always so terrifyingly reckless in battle?”

“Who? Hawke? Well, from what I heard from my contacts in the Red Iron, yes and no. It looks reckless, sure. She’s a mage and she likes to hit things. But they also said she knows when to back off and let somebody with more armor take the front. My guess is that she takes her job leading seriously. That or she is hoping somebody will put her out of her misery so she won’t have to listen to Carver anymore.”

“Hmm, what is up with her brother?”

“Younger sibling syndrome. He wants to be the big man and feels like he can’t with Hawke around. Unfortunately, Hawke is twice the man Carver is.” Both men watched Hawke’s hip sway and then glanced at each other. A wealth of information passed between both men in that moment, Varric’s eyes twinkling and Anders’ widening in slight alarm. Varric chuckled and patted his crossbow. “I haven’t known her for very long, just a couple of days more than you. Still, you made her pretty tongue-tied Blondie.”

“Blondie?” Anders choked a little causing Hawke to look back at them. Her eyes landed on Anders and widened when she noticed his flushed cheeks. More attention on the healer than her environment, she promptly tripped over a rock. Aveline grabbed her arm, steadying her, and Hawke turned beet red and turned back around to watch for bandits. “Blondie?” he hissed at Varric.

Varric shrugged, eyes taking in the entire scene. “It fits.” The smile he tossed Anders was enigmatic. With a wink, Varric sped up to walk next to Hawke. Anders watched with great interest as Varric said something and Hawke glared down at the dwarf. A quick look back at Anders and she was speeding ahead.

He wondered what Varric had said.

***

Anders had begged off going to the Hanged Man. It wasn’t anything against Hawke. He would have happily sat in the tavern with her and discussed magic, mages or well, anything else she wanted to talk about. But Carver had joined the group when they re-entered Kirkwall from their little stint along the Coast and he was, just as Hawke had described, a tit. The young man had taken an instant dislike of Anders and had prodded and poked till Anders had had enough. When he left to head back to his clinic, Hawke had been pointedly ignoring her brother and Carver had been sullen.

Sitting now in the empty clinic, he wondered why he hadn’t just gone to the tavern. At least there he’d be entertained and drinking bad watered-down ale. Here, he was alone with his thoughts. He settled back on the cot he had tucked into a back corner and pulled out the small charm he wore around his neck. Smooth, silver, and worn from him rubbing it, he brushed his thumb over the griffon engraved on the front. Turning the little circle over, he brushed his thumb over the word written there, just a name. A simple thing, a little thing, much like his little chest of memories he kept next to the cot. Reminders of where he had come from, who he had been before Justice, before Kirkwall, before…everything. He rubbed the little charm and remembered:

_It was the night before she was to leave and he had visited her one last time. Entwined on the bed, bodies still glistening from their passion, she had reached under her pillow and pulled out a small box. His eyebrow had quirked up at the sight of the gift, a flush filling his cheeks. “I didn't realize we were exchanging gifts.”_

_Eavan's smile had held a hint of sadness. “We aren't, per se, I just...I saw this and thought of you.”_

_Anders had kept his eyes on her as he opened the box. When he looked down, his eyes had widened. In the box, nestled amongst dried flower petals, sat a small silver pendant. Circular, smooth, it held a gryphon engraved on its shiny surface. He had pulled it out, admiring the minute details. The pendant spun and he saw the back was also engraved. In curling letters, the name Eavan was etched into the silver. His eyes had met hers and he saw tears forming. “I don't...I have no words, love. This is perfect. I will never take it off. Never.” He had fastened the chain around his neck, touching the pendant with tender fingers._

_She had smiled, her hand smoothing over his cheek. “To remember me, to remember that you are never alone. To remember you are loved.”_

_On impulse, he had reached up and unfastened the gold hoop he wore. He had looked at it for a moment and then pressed it into her hand. “Then take this, a part of me. For when you need to know that somebody out there loves you for you, not for your title or what you did, but for the woman you are.”_

_Eavan had looked down at the earring and had clenched her hand around it. “I know, Anders. But I love Alistair too. And my place is there with him and with my duties. I know, deep down, that out there is someone for you. Somebody who will see past all of the flirting and bad jokes, somebody who will recognize you for the man you are. I won't forget you. And perhaps, one day, our paths will cross again. We are both Wardens, after all.”_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the clinic door opening. Peering around the small privacy screen he saw Hawke standing in the now-open doorway.

“It was unlocked…” her voice tinkled into the silence. “I’ll leave if you are busy or just tired. I just…Carver…he can be so terribly rude sometimes. Especially if he thinks I’m drawing too much attention to myself, you know? But, I didn’t like the thought of you sitting down here alone just because of him.”

Tucking the little pendant back into his robes, he stepped into the main part of the clinic. “It’s alright. I spend a lot of time down here alone. I’m used to it.”

She moved into the clinic, her eyes finding his from across the room, “Well, you shouldn’t have to be…used to it that is.” She held up a bottle and smiled. “I brought some wine. It’s cheap wine, but it’s still wine. If you want some. And maybe we could talk about healing spells?”

His hand strayed to the chain around his neck for a moment, thoughts of his old Commander sliding through his mind. The woman in front of him looked nothing like Eavan, but he swore he could see traces of her in Hawke. Swallowing back the sudden sorrow, and ignoring the shiver of awareness that ran through him, he smiled. “I would like that, Marian. Thank you.”

Her name on his lips startled her for a moment, but she pushed through the anxious rise of nerves to pour the wine and sit on a cot to listen to him talk. She watched his hands move, the long fingers fluttering slightly as he explained healing magic and Fade spirits. She watched his eyes light up the longer she stayed, the relief settling into a near-happiness. She watched the lines on his face ease and smooth as he relaxed and sank into the companionship. She watched him and wondered about the little pendant she had seen around his neck, the sadness in his eyes, and his acceptance of his lonely existence.


	6. Chapter 6

For Marian, promises were both something to be kept and a weight around her neck. The necklace she had carried from Ferelden fit the image of a weight around her neck pretty well. The cost of her family’s life, the cost of safe passage to the ship to Kirkwall, had been the necklace and a promise. She figured it had been time to pay-up and had nabbed Varric and Anders to go with her and Carver to the Dalish encampment outside of town. Unfortunately, it had turned out to not be a simple delivery. The hand-off she had expected had turned into an entire day trip complete with a trek up a mountain and a promise to take an elf back to town with her. Marian hadn’t electrocuted the entire camp, though she felt like she was warranted. Instead, she had nodded politely and rolled her eyes at Anders when Marethari, the Dalish Keeper, wasn’t looking.

The little elf in question was…interesting. Blood magic use aside, and Marian’s brain worried over that facet of Merrill like a hound with a bone, she seemed a sweet thing. Every so often, though, Marian saw the glimmer of cunning flit over the elf’s eyes and it made her think that perhaps Merrill wasn’t quite as innocent as she let on. Still, Marian worried about bringing such a fragile person into Kirkwall’s cold confines. It wasn’t the elf part that had Marian worried, it was the apostate part. With no family and no friends, Merrill was a prime target.

Which left Marian in a bit of a bind. Merrill hit every protective button Marian had: she was Ferelden, she was a mage, and she was alone. Marian’s eyes slid over to Anders, noting that he, too, fit that bill. Perhaps that’s why she worried over him so. Or perhaps it was that something that lurked just behind his eyes, that little spark that made her wonder about him. Or perhaps that was just Justice getting involved in the rather energetic conversation currently going on about blood magic and demons.

“You know, Anders, I’m not saying you should be nicer but…you should be nicer.” Marian dropped back to walk next to him, watching as Carver and Varric moved to hover over Merrill.

“Marian,” Anders voice managed to convey happiness at her presence and disapproval with Merrill all at once, “she’s a blood mage.”

“She’s an apostate with no friends, no family, and no support network. She’s going to be left in the Alienage, and we should all be concerned with her safety.” The harrumph from Anders sounded distinctly Justice-y to Marian and she felt a smile unfurl. “I can see how Justice feels about that. I bet you would both feel terrible if the templars found her. They would make her tranquil for sure. Or just kill her. You’d be alright with that?”

The frown lines on Anders’ forehead fascinated Marian. She could see the inner dialogue going on in his head, could almost imagine the entire conversation herself. It probably sounded a lot like the conversation she had had with her own mind just a bit ago. That thought made her grin and poke Anders in the side, which caused him to stop making the frowny-face and instead regard her with mock sternness. “No need to get physical. I can see your point. I don’t want any mage locked in the Gallows, even a naïve blood mage.” Marian’s snort brought a small smile to his face, “I see you are pulling her under your wing, much like you did me.”

“What are you implying?” Marian flapped her arms at Anders and then stopped, suddenly aware of how bird-like that gesture looked.

“I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying that you’ve been down to my clinic every day for the past week with a bag of food and a ready hand. Yesterday, you came by twice. The second time you came by you manhandled me away from my work table.”

“I never…”

“Manhandled me.” The smile had grown on his face as he watched the blush slide up Marian’s neck. He was growing rather fond of that blush, it was a never-ending source of amusement to him. “Should I expect a decrease in your visits so you can go manhandle Merrill as well?”

Marian turned considering eyes to the elf in question, “Maybe I’ll just let Carver do that. Look at him.” Both Anders and Marian watched as Carver stuttered and flushed at Merrill. To their great interest, Merrill stuttered and flushed back at Carver. “Mother’s just going to love that. Maybe the two of them will lay off the commentary about you…not that there’s…commentary…er.” She felt her face flame.

“Is the stuttering and the blushing an inherited trait in the Hawke family? And what commentary?”

“You are a wretch, did you know that? An absolute wretch. See if I bring you pie tonight.”

“I take it all back. Your blushing is adorable.” Anders grinned a bit when Marian smacked his arm and moved up to talk to Varric.

***

They had dropped Merrill off at the Alienage and it had taken every ounce of Marian’s will-power to leave the little elf there. The look on Merrill’s face had been heart-breaking. Marian had done the one thing she could think to do to help; she had put together a bag of food and taken it to Merrill and stayed to chat for a bit. When she had left, Merrill had been in a better mood.

Now she stood outside of the clinic doors, pie in hand, and pondered why it was all closed up. It wasn’t that late, the doors were usually still open. She glanced over and finally noted the unlit lantern. Could he have gone out? Did he go out? Did he have this circle of friends she didn’t know about? Marian pondered her options for a moment and then tried the door, figuring she could leave the pie for him with a note.

Anders had closed up shop for the evening in the hopes of having an hour or two to bathe. It wasn’t often that he got the opportunity to have a full bath. Usually, it was a quick sponging affair in-between emergencies, usually with cold water and very little soap. However, the clinic had been slow after they had gotten back from the Dalish camp, and he felt like it was the perfect opportunity to pull out the large, slightly battered tub he had received as a gift after healing up a bunch of Carta members after a particularly harrowing fight.

The water had just reached the perfect temperature and he had just slid his shirt over his head when the door to the clinic creaked open. The sigh he gave was deep and heartfelt. He could have sworn he had latched both doors, though that particular door’s latch was tricky and prone to falling off. He was leaning down to grab his shirt when a very feminine gasp filled the room. He knew that gasp, had heard it recently in a fight when a bandit had managed to sneak up behind Hawke and stab her in the shoulder. He froze.

The first thing Marian saw when she opened the clinic door was the big battered tub in front of the fire pit. She missed baths; her uncle’s place didn’t offer enough privacy for one. So her first thought was along the lines of _I wonder if Anders would let me come by and use that sometime because Maker, I could use a soak._ The second thing Marian saw was Anders pulling his shirt off. Her second thought had been comprised mainly of babble and a weird screeching noise as everything in her brain ground to a halt. The third thing she saw were the pale lines crisscrossing Anders’ back as he bent over to retrieve the shirt. Her brain had sped back into gear and she heard herself gasp into the silence.

She watched him freeze, his shirt in his hand. Her eyes slid down his back, cataloguing each pale scar. They covered him from shoulder to lower back, over-lapping into a lattice work she could see clearly from across the room. She didn’t think, didn’t make another noise, just put the pie on a nearby cot and pulled the door closed behind her. The sudden sound of the door hitting the frame made Anders jump and she winced, turning to quickly fidget with the defunct lock.

He was still frozen in place when she turned back around. She stood for a moment, simply looking at his back, and then moved across the room. She had no words for what she saw, no way to express her feelings. She circled him, slipping between him and the tub to look up into his face. She saw embarrassment there blending with anxiety. They stood like that for a moment, Anders clutching his shirt and Marian watching him.

Her arms were gentle, cradling. She didn’t tug, didn’t pull, didn’t force. She just offered comfort and he allowed it. For a brief few moments, her hands rested on his bare back, touched the scars there, and soothed. Then she was moving away. “I brought you pie for after your bath.” Her voice was soft in the silence.

“Thank,” he cleared his throat, his voice creaky, “Thank you, Marian.”

“I’ll leave you alone for now.”

He was startled to realize he didn’t want to be alone. Not after that, not now. “You don’t have to go. If you don’t mind waiting behind that screen…” his voice grew faint and he cleared his throat again. “I would appreciate the company.” Her smile made his chest hurt.”I…am…Marian…your friendship is valued. I’m not…good for much else. Not safe. Not…” his eyes met hers and he tried to find the words to express how much he wanted her to stay but also how much he feared her presence.

Marian watched the emotions play over his face. “I’ll just grab that book on healing and read while you take your bath.” Faced with his fear, she felt her own anxiety ease a bit. “If you don’t mind, of course. I could leave.” She watched him shake his head, the fear blooming in his eyes. “Well then I’ll read and we’ll eat pie.” She turned then, moving to grab the aforementioned book before going to his cubby.

He stood for a moment longer, shirt pressed tightly against his chest, and shuddered. He could feel Justice tugging on his mind, pushing at him to hurry up, to bath, to get to work, to stay the course, to stop thinking about Marian. Usually, that was enough to push him back to what needed to be done. But tonight, the touch of Marian’s hands on his back gave him enough inner strength to push Justice down, enjoy the bath, and eventually, enjoy the pie and conversation with Marian.


	7. Chapter 7

A night of intense introspection, combined with curiosity and worry over the state of Anders’ back, had pushed Marian into visiting Anders bright and early in the morning. Satchel of food over one shoulder and pouch of mail at her waist, Marian had breezed into the clinic with the determined thought that she could be friendly and compassionate without manhandling, molesting, or otherwise touching Anders.

She had lasted all of two minutes. She found the man leaning against a table, pale and sweating, and the light had barely started filtering through the high windows. The clinic was humming, a line of people forming across the room and out the doors. Marian had taken one look at Anders’ wan face and had leapt into action. First thing she did was – hug him. It was a terrible compulsion. The man was sagging, exhausted, emotionally compromised, and obviously about to collapse. So he got a hug and then was shoved onto his bed with the bag of food and nagged into submission. She worried about how little nagging she had been forced to do before he simply ate. The second thing she did was organize the chaos. Marian was good at organization. She came from organizers. She had the volunteers hopping in no time flat.

An hour later and Anders ventured from his cubby to find the line slowly dwindling and the cots slowly filling. Marian was pink-cheeked, hair in disarray, as she directed patients. “Well, it’s some sort of terrible influenza. Probably from the water, if your medical book is correct. The only thing to be done is rest, liquids, and…well…rest. So I’m having the worst of them take a cot and sending the not-as-sick-ones home.” Anders blinked at her. “What? I’ve learned a lot from you. And what I didn’t learn from you, I picked up from Papa. He was a little bit of an itinerant healer, you know. Knew a lot about potions and first aid.” She waved an elderly man to a cot and went to get him a bucket. “It’s all just organization. How do you think I’m managing to save up the coin for the expedition?”

“Ah…” was all he could manage, his eyes taking in the entire scene and Marian directing patients as if it was her clinic and not his.

“And did you not sleep last night? At all? You look terrible, not that you LOOK terrible because I don’t know if that’s possible but you look…well…terrible.” She stopped for a moment and gathered her thoughts. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better?” Anders ventured, almost guessing at his state of mind as he watched Marian. His mind kept tugging him back to the night before and the memory of her hands on his back. He hadn’t slept after she had left, had just lain awake in bed reliving that brief moment of skin on skin contact. When the first patient had shown up, darkness still pressing down on the city, he had simply rolled into action. Now, face to face with Marian, his body lagged. He felt the exhaustion threaten to drown him. It worried him; how her mere presence could soothe him, lull him into feeling safe and almost whole, almost normal. He hadn’t known her long, a fact that kept banging around in his head. How could he crave her companionship after so short a time?

Marian watched Anders sway on his feet. A glance over at the patients showed the line dwindling. The volunteers could handle it from here on out, she decided. Gently taking Anders’ arm, she led him back to his cot. “I think you need to sleep. You go ahead. I’m going to read my mail and then keep an ear out for any new problems that crop up. Come on, coat off and under the blankets.”

Anders tried to glare at her, tried to keep upright and in control, but he found himself stripped of his coat in no time and tucked, firmly, under his thin blankets. Marian tutted at the blankets, tutted at his thin pillow, tutted at his scowl, and simply sat on the incredibly rickety chair near his bed with a critical eye on him and an ear tuned to the clinic. It occurred to him that all of her babbling and feather-brained behavior only happened while they talked. And that a Marian on a mission meant a single-minded, focused, clear-headed woman who seemed to take charge as easily as a general. It was so much like Eavan that he dropped off to sleep without a single argumentative word being uttered.

Marian smiled when Anders’ breathing evened out. He was a stubborn one, though Marian was also pretty stubborn. It would be interesting to find out which one of them was the more stubborn, once he was fed up and well-rested of course. Marian had a sneaking suspicion it was Anders, but that wasn’t a line of thinking she was willing to delve into at the moment. Her mail needed reading and she was going to read it quietly while Anders slept. She wasn’t going to sit on this incredibly unstable chair and watch him sleep; she was going to read her mail.

A deep sigh and she pulled out the letters. Junk, junk, love letter to Carver…her brain stuttered and she had to take a moment before moving on. Job offer from an Anso – what a name – she put that one to the side. Two envelopes with gold sovereigns as payment for jobs finished. And…what the…was this some kind of scam letter? Marian crumpled up the junk mail and turned to the job offer. She turned the letter over in her hand, contemplating the offer of work versus the fact it asked her to meet with the mysterious Anso at night in Lowtown. _Well,_ she thought idly as her eyes slid back to watch Anders sleep, _I’ll just have to bring back-up for this one._

***

Backup had turned out to be a smart choice for the Anso job. Anso being a lying sack of shit notwithstanding, she had found herself on the receiving end of two groups of slavers, one house full of demons, and one taciturn, but in an attractive way, elf named Fenris. Said elf was currently leaning against the outside wall of a Hightown mansion and shooting her a look that seemed to say “you lied to me.” Marian did not remember lying to the handsome, yet grouchy, elf. She was busy admiring the way his eyebrows rose and fell as he talked when she realized he had started in on a rant about mages and magic. She could feel the waves of tension rising behind her from Anders and Carver. Oh now this should be good, her brain murmured. “I’m sorry, what was that about mages?”

“I said that after escaping Danarius I find myself in the presence of more mages. I saw you casting spells in there.” Fenris glared at her.

“You have a problem with my sister then you have a problem with me.” Carver grated in a not-so-helpful manner at the elf. Marian sighed noisily.

“Carver! Let the man talk. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all this…right Fenris? Reasonable explanation. Emphasis on reasonable.”

Fenris blinked in surprise. “I…well.” In the face of her wide-eyed and encouraging look, he faltered a bit. Anders, not feeling quite as generous as Marian, had to suppress a snicker at the expression adorning the elf’s face. “I’ve been a slave my whole life to mages. Magic has done nothing but torture me and bring me pain. They are prone to demon possession and blood magic. They must be watched and not trusted!”

Marian nodded, eyes moving down his face to take in the white tattoos that slid from his chin downward. This was an argument she had heard long and often, usually from the Chantry types. The elf? He seemed to have more reason to have this view than the local religious group. “I…see…so all mages are torturing, slave-keeping, demon-loving fiends?”

“Er…” Fenris shifted. “All the ones I’ve met have been. Up till now. But you helped me and…I…thank you for that. I owe you a debt. You didn’t have to help. I offer you my services, such as they are.”

“Even if she’s a mage?” Anders couldn’t hold it in any longer. His tone was confrontational. Marian shook her head at him.

“Yes, even if she is a mage. I misjudged her. You, I mean. Hawke.” Fenris shifted again and Marian sighed.

“Alright, alright. Anders, thanks for that…not so helpful bit. Carver, stop flapping your arms back there. You’re not a bird. Right. Look, Fenris, I can…understand…your hesitation to work with me. So it’s awfully generous for you volunteer. And I am working towards raising money for a trip to the Deep Roads so Maker knows, I need help. So thank you for the offer and you are welcome for the help. And do you have a place to stay?”

That caused all kinds of arm waving behind her. Anders was sputtering about mage-hating elves. Carver was sputtering about elves sleeping at their house. Fenris and Marian simply looked at each other. “Are they always like this?” asked Fenris, his voice pitched low for her ears only.

Marian shrugged. “Carver is. No idea what's up with Anders.”

One corner of Fenris’ lips unfurled into a small half-smile. Marian watched in fascination as his facial muscles seemed to nearly creak as the amusement rolled across his face, as if it were an unfamiliar expression, one not much used. His voice ghosted below the cacophony of complaints, “I’ll be fine here. Thanks for the offer, though. It was…unexpected…as were you.”

Marian shivered slightly and then turned to face Anders and Carver. “Alrighty, he’s staying here. We’re LEAVING!” She waved her arms in a shooing motion, wondering if she looked like she was herding mabari because it certainly sounded like she was herding mabari. She made a mental note to bring some food by for Fenris, a thought that had her smiling as she added him to the list of “people who needed food.” At this rate she would have to take more jobs with the guard to pay for all of the extra food she was doling out, a minor nuisance but a worthy cause.

As they exited Hightown, Carver turned towards the Hanged Man, mumbling that he needed a drink and some time alone. Marian watched him stomp off, shot a grin up at Anders, and snagged his hand. “We did good work tonight, hm?”

“What? For the mage-hating elf?” Anders’ eyes were glued to her hand in his.

“Hmm,” she squeezed his hand, “He has his reasons. I appreciate you coming with me. I know you had a rough day…well, rough night…well…um.” She fumbled a moment. “Thank you for still coming out with me after what happened last night and then me bossing you today.”

His hand tightened around hers for a moment and he allowed himself the pleasure of rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, watching the flush bloom on her cheeks. “You saved me at the clinic today, thank you for that. I offered my help, and I’m glad to give it. Even if it is for a mage-hating elf who lacks manners.”

Marian simply hummed a little, not sure what to say but knowing it would result in some horrific babble pouring from her lips. “Well…er. Thank you all the same. Maybe we can change his mind.”

He stopped her when they reached the stairs to Darktown, stepping down one stair so that they were at eye-level. His finger slowly stroked over her cheek, and he watched her blush darken. Lips curving into a smile, he turned and headed back to his clinic. Marian stood on the top stair and watched him walk away, her brain grasping to find words for what had just happened.


	8. Chapter 8

Anders had spent the rest of the night castigating himself for touching Marian, for flirting with Marian, for even thinking twice about Marian. Justice had started out agreeing and was now silently seething in the back of Anders' mind, a disgruntled presence who just wanted him to get back to work and stop _obsessing_ over this woman. It wasn't that Justice disliked Marian Hawke, he didn't, in as much a separate spirit-controlled section of Anders' brain could have likes and dislikes. Justice simply wanted them back on task and not mooning over a woman who made them think of a person from the past. Justice prodded at Anders again, distress filtering through Anders' thoughts as memories of Eavan surfaced and danced around his worries over Marian.

In the end, Anders dragged himself from his bed and began to feverishly write. What he wrote didn't matter so much as the familiarity of the exercise, the ability for him to lose himself in a need greater than himself. As the night progressed and Anders' strength flagged, Justice took over. By morning, Anders was haggard, sleep-deprived, sore from sitting, and starving. The spirit didn't care. They wrote until there was a knock on the door of the clinic. Only that roused them from the fevered writing, made them put the pen down to go lose themselves in the need to help, to heal, to right wrongs.

It was close to mid-day when Anders finally took a break. The clinic had finally cleared and he was free, at last, to collapse on a stool. He had just enough energy to drop his head to the table before he fell asleep.

That was how Marian found him, draped over a table and passed out cold. She was late getting to the clinic, having stopped to see both Merrill and Fenris. Merrill had been a ray of sunshine. Fenris had been a little dark cloud. She had spent the balance of the morning talking to the little cloud, teasing out some of his story, and finding herself unaccountably sympathetic to his plight. She hadn't thought that possible, what with him being so virulently anti-magic but there it was. Marian had a soft heart for the underdog and she placed Fenris squarely in underdog territory.

But her morning stops had delayed her arrival at the clinic. Instead of a bustling place of healing she found an empty room with a softly snoring mage. She watched him for a moment, noting the increase in stubble, the delicate bruises under his eye, the splotches of ink on his hand, and the pattern of wrinkles on his clothes. It looked, to her eyes, like he hadn't slept. Pursing her lips in disapproval, she moved back to his little cubby and glanced at his bed. The thin blankets were wadded up in a ball, pillow scrunched and mangled. Sighing, she set to work.

Half an hour later and she was attempting to gently shake Anders awake. She had blown out the lantern, locked the clinic doors, barred the one door that refused to lock, and had drawn him a bath. She was now shaking his shoulder and softly saying “Anders” in his ear. It wasn't working. He mumbled, turned his head, batted a hand in her direction, and went back to snoring. Marian frowned.

Anders was deep asleep and for once, not dreaming. His head didn't much care for his desk, but he was enjoying the quiet rest. It was peaceful: his head on his desk, strong fingers massaging his shoulders and scalp. He rubbed his face against the desk, a soft sound of pleasure escaping his lips. The fingers stopped and he made a noise of discontent, causing the fingers to start up again. He groaned, partly in pain and partly from delight, as the fingers worked at a stubborn knot on his neck. Just as he was sinking into a happy fantasy involving Marian, massages, and fat pillows, Justice appeared, for lack of a better word, and prodded him awake.

Anders opened his eyes and realized that he was draped over one of his tables, drooling, while Marian Hawke rubbed his neck and shoulders. For a moment, he held perfectly still, unable to do much more than whimper as she smoothed back his hair to rub at his forehead. Unfortunately, Justice took that opportunity to mentally punch Anders and he sat up with a yelp causing Marian to let out a short scream of surprise.

“Oh! Oh...did I hurt you? Because I was just trying to wake you up, but you are one giant knot back there. And then you sounded like you were enjoying it so I didn't want to stop...but if you're awake...I have a bath ready...”

Anders blinked at her with bleary eyes, “Marian? What are you doing here?”

“What I do every day we aren't out doing a job? Bringing you food? Helping you out? I found you passed out over a table. Are you ok? What happened? I'm sorry I was late ...I stopped to see Merrill and Fenris. Poor Fenris, I should really tell you about it.” Marian started fighting with Anders' coat as she talked, wrestling with the buckles. Anders sat there, befuddled and still reeling from the mental slap delivered by Justice. Her fingers had finally pried open the last buckle when his brain kicked into gear.

“What are you doing? Stop! Stop that...Marian. What the...Marian!” Anders grabbed at her hands as she started sliding the coat off of him, stopping her. 

She smiled, tugging her hands free and pulling him off the stool. “I have a bath ready. And food. Come on, into the bath.”

“Marian. Stop. I don't need you to mother me. You need to give me space, you...you're always down here and...I told you. I'm not a good choice for anything more than a passing friendship. You should just go.” Anders' heart plummeted to his stomach as he spoke, as he pushed her away from him. He could barely breath at the thought of being left alone again, his thoughts seizing as fear filled him. He could feel Justice's indecision, wanting to go back to the focus of before but loathing to lose contact with anybody who reminded them both of their Commander.

Marian looked into Anders face, her breath catching when he pushed her away. For a moment, she felt lost. Then she looked into Anders' eyes and saw the pain blossoming. Biting her lip, she watched him struggle with himself. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly to fight back the tears, she ignore him and wrapped her arms around his now shaking shoulders. “I wouldn't have to mother you if you'd take care of yourself. And you're an absolute tit if you think so poorly of yourself. Oh stop, get up. I'm not leaving. Get up. Andraste's flaming drawer's, you are worse than Fenris. He tried to throw me out too.”

Anders wasn't sure what to do. Her arms were holding him so close, so warmly. He felt so wanted, so needed there. But...he wasn't safe. He wasn't...sane. But the warmth drew him in and he finally gave in, leaning into the hug and soaking up the comfort and safety. When she pulled back, when she tugged him up, he went. When she shoved him, gently, behind his privacy screen and pointed to the tub, he nodded and undressed to bathe. And when he was done and dressed, he sat on his bed and ate, listening as Marian talked about Fenris and his past, Merrill and her fears, Carver and the latest barbs thrown. He watched her talk and found that he could rest, that Justice simply settled.. When she tucked him under his blanket and curled up against his back, crowding him against the wall, he didn't say a word. He let himself drift off to sleep wrapped in her arms and safe.

Marian held Anders as he slept, pressed against his back, clinging to him so she wouldn't roll off his narrow bed. He had relaxed against her finally, had eaten and bathed and allowed himself to be coddled a bit. Now she held him and wondered if it was that first day she had looked into his eyes and fell or if it was when he pushed her away while his eyes begged her to stay. All she knew was that he needed her and it drew her in. She closed her eyes and saw his smile as he teased her about blushing or tripping and wondered again how, in little over a week, she had started to fall in love with such a troubled, gentle, baffling, stubborn soul.


	9. Chapter 9

Marian’s realization of her feelings made her back off a bit with Anders. She visited, but not every day. Part of it was sheer terror at the thought of falling in love. The rest was simply her schedule. It turned out that Kirkwall was always in need of somebody who was willing to go out and kill something or someone to get a job done.

With the addition of Merrill and Fenris, Marian found she didn't have to rely on Aveline, Carver or Anders to help. She still brought Varric, figuring all this had been his idea. Varric never complained, laughed at her jokes, teased her into good moods, and always had a pint and a chair for her back at the Hanged Man. As the weeks slid by, she found herself becoming attached to the dwarf and she had to laugh at her original reticent feelings.

So she fulfilled bounties, cut down on the bandit population, and picked up one more lost soul. Isabela wasn't, at first glance, the type of character Marian usually associated with. She was brash, loud, daring, sexy – a whirlwind of a woman who embraced life as long as life didn't expect her to be responsible. She had swept Marian into a dangerous and rather exciting job and had stuck around. Rather like a barnacle or...or...well, barnacle. Marian envied everything about the pirate: her laugh, her self-assurance, her hair, her smile, her boots. She really envied her those boots. She found she had another reason to envy Isabela the day she decided to drag Anders back out into the sunshine and on a job.

She had figured Anders was just the one for the job of tracking down a missing mage youth. Who better to help find a mage than Anders? So had she tromped down to his clinic, Isabela and Carver in tow. She was in the middle of being highly entertained by Isabela's non-stop teasing of Carver when they walked into the clinic to find Anders on a stool, pile of herbs in front of him.

“Hey Anders!”

His head lifted, a smile forming on his lips. “Marian. I haven't seen you in a couple of days. I was worried...well, I was worried about you.”

“Oh, I got dragged out to some Maker-forsaken mine named the Bone Pit. It was...terrible.”

“She got smacked by a dragon and had to spend two days in bed,” Carver's voice dripped disapproval. “She wouldn't let us bother you.”

“I had it under control. I just needed to rest before I tried healing. It hurt and I had problems concentrating. But I'm fine. Anders, I'm fine!”

Anders had slid off the stool and was currently advancing on her with a set face and angry eyes. “You didn't come see me? Why not?” His hand wrapped around her arm, and for once, he was the one manhandling. She found herself dragged to a cot.

“I said I had it under control! What are you? Anders!” Her face flamed as he peeled back the neck of her robe to look for injuries.

“Where?” his eyes pinned her in place and she tried, desperately, to forget that Isabela was standing next to Carver and watching the entire scene unfold with entirely too much enjoyment.

“My leg. My left leg.” Marian slumped in defeat and then squeaked when Anders slid his hand up said appendage to feel the muscles. Maker help her, this was why she hadn't come down to see him; his hand was on her bare thigh, his face scrunched in concentration as he searched for wounds. Marian was dying a slow death as his hand drifted up higher, finding the scar left by the dragon’s claw. There was a burst of warmth, a gentle caress of fingers, and then he was stepping back.

“You did a good job. Almost got it all; just a little bit of scar tissue that I was able to heal. I guess you have been listening to me when I talk.” He smoothed her robe back down, his eyes on her flushed cheeks. He tapped her nose, eyes twinkling, and turned to smile at Isabela. “I'm Anders. Are you a new member of Marian's mob?”

“My my. Marian is it? We all just call her Hawke. I didn't know she even had a first name.” Marian groaned and tried to melt into the cot. “I'm Isabela, formerly Captain and I...wait...I know you.”

Anders moved closer to Isabela, his head tilting. “You do look familiar.” His lips pressed together as he thought.

“Ever been to Denerim? The Pearl?” Isabela tapped her chin as she rifled through her memories.

“Wait. You were the one who liked that girl with the griffon tattoos, right? What was her name...hmm” Now Anders was tapping his chin. Marian's gaze was wide-eyed.

“The Lay Warden?” Isabela's eyes sparkled.

“Yes! You were there the night I...”

“You! The mage with the electricity thing! That was nice...very nice...fancy meeting you here.”

Anders threw his head back and laughed. It was a full-bodied belly laugh. Marian could only watch as Isabela moved to hug him and fuss. She touched his ear, asking where his earring had gone, tugged on his hair, and feathered fingers over his cheek. Marian clenched her hands in her robe and felt her heart crack just a bit as he let Isabela's fingers linger on him.

Carver cleared his throat and Marian's eyes flew to him, surprised to see compassion mirrored there. “As much as this is...not interesting...we came down to get you for a job. Marian? You ready to go?”

Marian hopped up and managed a weak smile. “Right, well....I guess we'll let you two catch up. Come on Carver, I think Varric is available and Merrill is probably with him.” She didn't stop, not even when Anders reached for her. She rushed from the clinic. Carver shot Anders a look and then followed his sister.

Anders could only stand there in confusion, his hand still out-stretched to grab at her. “What just happened?”

Isabela shook her head. “I think we made her jealous. She is incredibly sweet on you.”

“What? No. Marian? She's just a good friend.”

“Right. And you are the only one who calls her Marian. You do realize that, right?” Isabela patted his cheek and smiled. “I'd better catch up with them. I did promise to help her. Did you want to come?”

Anders glanced at his empty clinic and nodded, uncertainty in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

While she wouldn’t, necessarily, label the entire Feynriel job a disaster, she felt like it had been pretty close. Oh sure, they had found the boy –about to be sold to slavers from Tevinter. And sure, she had wrangled him a place with the Dalish instead of shoving him into the Circle. And yeah, the mom was ok with it and even that templar, Thrask, seemed to think it had been a good decision. But the entire job had been one giant emotional rollercoaster between Anders, Merrill and Carver. Between the two apostates worrying about the boy and Carver worrying about the Templars, Marian had just about been ready to throw herself at the Gallows if just for some uninterrupted quiet time, even if the quiet time was in the Gallow’s dungeons. Throw in her confusion over the entire Isabela and Anders scene and Carver’s meltdown after she released Feynriel to the Dalish and well, she found herself sitting on the steps outside of her Uncle’s hovel with her head in her hands and her brain slowly trying to burrow out of her skull.

Warmth feathered over her scalp and the nail spikes receded into the fuzzy itch of healing magic. She lifted her head to see Anders sitting next to her on the steps, eyes on her face, hand smoothing her hair back as he soothed away the pain. She closed her eyes and re-opened them. He was still there, wary eyes still watching her even as his hand slid down to her shoulders to press warmth into her knotted muscles. Something glinted in his eyes when his hand pressed to her back, something quicksilver that had her mouth drying and a pink blossoming on her cheeks. At the first hint of blush, Anders’ lips slowly slid into a half-smile and Marian felt something in the pit of her stomach curl and tighten.

“Hey there,” his voice wrapped around her and made the curling tendrils in her stomach spike. “I came by to say I’m sorry.”

The words made no sense to Marian’s brain. Her entire focus was currently on the hand rubbing gentle, warm circles over her back. Well, and on those eyes that looked at her as if they weren’t sitting on steps in Lowtown but instead were someplace alone and not wearing as many clothes. She swallowed and watched his mouth move, the words losing meaning as her eyes focused on those lips. _You are such a liar, Marian Hawke,_ her brain scolded, _you weren’t confused about Isabela. You were jealous. Jealous, jealous. Because she had insinuated that she and Anders had been intimate. You, my girl, are fooling yourself about your feelings._

Anders watched the flush spread over Marian’s cheeks the longer he touched her back. Her eyes had started out staring into his but had slowly worked their way down his face and were now focused on his lips. He watched the flush spread and it made him smile wider, which made her flush deepen. _Here lay dragons,_ he thought. Part of him wanted to see how far he could push them both before Justice reared his head, so to speak, or she fled, but Anders wasn’t the callow man he had been back before Justice, before Amaranthine, before Eavan. So he slowly withdrew his hand and watched Marian settle, watched her gather her thoughts, before he spoke again.

“Why are you sitting on the steps?”

She rolled her eyes, finally able to think now that his hand had withdrawn, “Oh, well, Carver went into the hovel in a snit. Mother asked why, and of course, he blamed me. As is usual with Carver, his snit didn’t cover what had happened with Feynriel, because we wouldn’t want to worry Mother. No, instead he just went off on how I was holding him back. Mother had been arguing with Uncle when Carver started in, was already in a bad mood, and had started yelling at Carver. Then Uncle decided to join in. I couldn’t stand it a moment more so I came to sit out here. Dodger would normally be out here with me, but he had gone to nap under my bed and I didn’t want to bother the old boy. And there you have it.”

“I’m sorry.” Anders watched her lean back against the stairs, her eyes turning to search the darkening sky above.

“Oh, don’t be. Mother is still grieving the loss of Bethany and the loss of her family’s home. Uncle and Carver are like two peas – both blaming somebody else for what they see as life’s hardships. And I’m just trying to keep it together and get Mother out of this hovel. Once they are taken care of maybe I can, I don’t know, move on.”

Anders’ eyebrow took flight. “Move on?”

“Hmm. I don’t mean leave. Maker, where would I go? No, just…move on with my life. Live for myself and not for them and their needs.”

“What you are doing now, it isn’t for you?”

That caused Marian to laugh a little. “Maker, no. But the moment Bethany fell to that ogre, the moment we were faced with either death by Darkspawn or being beholden to that Witch, well. I couldn’t leave Mother and Carver. Papa would have come back from the Maker’s side to tan my hide if I had. No, I took on the promise with the Witch, I agreed to the year with the Red Iron, and I am saving up for this Maker-forsaken trip to the Deep Roads to give them enough status, wealth and standing so that my status as an apostate can stop being the proverbial weight around their necks. I don’t mind being an apostate. I like my abilities. But they see them as some sort of terrible curse. If I can give them some financial security maybe they’ll lay off the entire apostate deal and I can finally live my life.”

Now Anders leaned back against the stairs, eyes turning to the heavens. “You really don’t see magic as a curse? You really are ok with being a mage and all the responsibilities and hate that come along with it? That’s…how…why?”

“It’s just…part of me. How could that be bad? It’s a responsibility, but it’s still just part of me. I know what the Chantry says. I also know the Chantry is full of it, so I don’t take it personally. It’s so convenient to cage us all like beasts and pull us out to use when needed and then lock us away again. Like we aren’t people. They treat the templars the same way, you know. Papa told me how a lot of them were orphans or from very poor families. The Chantry takes them in, raises them up to serve them, gets them hooked on the lyrium…there are decent templars just like there are rat-bastard templars.” She shrugged a little. “Not all mages are abominations or blood mages and not all templars are Chant-spewing bigots. But the Chantry is, for the most part, full of shit.” She turned her head to smile at Anders. “Or does a former Circle mage not agree?”

“I…have a pretty grim view of the Circle, Marian. I did escape seven times – at least seven. I actually stopped counting.”

She sat up at that. “Is that why your back…” She looked down. “Not that I mean to pry.”

“You escape once and they threaten you a bit, put you in the dungeons for a few days. Maybe they lash you a little, but you get healing. Escape seven times and they lash you and put you in solitary for a year with no healing. Then, to remind you that you are worth less than nothing, they pull you out periodically to physically enforce their views.” Anders voice was matter-of-fact, emotionless, as he spoke. He looked at perfect ease lounging back against the stairs. His stoic gaze met her shocked one and he smirked, “Of course, if you’re a good enough lay then you can get a little comfort, even in solitary. And I am a _very_ good lay.”

She watched as he let his gaze travel down her body. His eyes scorched her, undressed her, and promised her sinful pleasure. She had two options, she figured. Let him push her away or look past his words to the pain that obviously was lurking there. _Appearances can be deceiving, Marian,_ her brain pointed out. She saw that, despite the air of casual relaxation, his hands were clenched. Tiny stress lines radiated around his eyes and his mouth, his brow was furrowed, and he seemed about to jump up and flee from her. She met his gaze, saw the dare shining in them, and accepted it.

Instead of leaning back against the stairs, she slid closer to him, pressed against his side and laid her head on his shoulder. It was awkward and uncomfortable, the stairs pressing rather painfully into her side, but she turned to snuggle against him and let out a soft sigh. “You must have been a terrible handful, what with your flirting and suggestions.”

Anders stiffened in shock. “What?”

“I wish I could erase what happened to you. It’s…unfair…and…terrible. But you don’t need to hide behind bad jokes and shocking statements with me. We’re friends and I care about you. No need to be so…difficult.”

Anders’ head spun at Marian’s words. “I…”

She pushed herself up, balancing on his chest so that she could smile down at him. “Anders,” her voice was gentle, “You aren’t a bad person. You didn’t deserve that treatment. It was wrong. They were wrong.”

His arms wrapped around her and cradled her close to his chest. For a moment they stayed like that, holding on to each other, trading comfort and need. Anders rubbed his cheek against her hair and relaxed. “So, want to come down to the clinic for tea? My cots are rickety but more comfortable than stairs.”

Marian’s shoulders shook a bit, “That isn’t a come-on is it?”

“Did you want it to be?”

Her laugh made him feel warm and happy, an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation. She snickered a bit as she pushed away from him. “Let’s go drink tea and sit on rickety but more comfortable cots.” He chuckled and let her pull him up, let her drag him down to his clinic for tea and companionship.


	11. Chapter 11

“Really Marian, the Chanter’s Board?” Anders voice was a teasing ribbon above the general cacophony of the Chantry square. “Are we really so desperate for work?”

“Well, I’ve cleaned out three bandit groups this month. So the easy pick-up-and-go jobs are done. I need money and quick work. This is a good place to get that sort of thing.” Marian glanced around the square, taking in the crowds. “Busy today.”

Varric grunted. “Busy every day since the Blight. More refugees here than in Darktown some days.”

“Maker, this place is a madhouse. Maybe we should have gone to the market and talked to some vendors. I bet there’s somebody that needs a shipment guarded.” Marian rocked on her heels, almost losing her balance as a confrontation near the board caught her eye. A man was arguing with what looked to be the Grand Cleric. There was some hand waving, some pointing, a lot of clenched jaws. Then the man was stomping off. With a sudden pivot on his heels, he shot an arrow at the board, catching a paper from the hand of the Grand Cleric. Marian could only watch him with wide eyes as he pushed passed her group. “And I think we’ve just found a job.”

“What the hell was that about?”

“I don’t know Carver, I’m a mage, not a mind reader.”

“Funny, Sister. Very funny.”

Marian only rolled her eyes and went to fetch the paper, wrestling with the arrow before finally just snapping off the fletching to pull the paper free. _Hmm, a bandit job. Easy peasy. Hope it’s good coin._ Her brain juggled expenses versus income as she made her way back to her group. Not paying attention, eyes on the paper and mind on her small horde of coins, she stumbled into a templar talking to a young woman.

“Oh, I’m…so sorry. Pardon me, Ser.” The templar simply shot her a disgruntled look and stomped off. “Well, I said I was sorry.” Turning to the woman, Marian shrugged. “I wonder what his problem was.”

“Probably me. Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to…” the woman dabbed at her eyes as she took in Marian’s clothing and staff. “I’m just…he…oh.”

“Take your time. Are you ok?”

“It’s…it’s my brother, Keran. He’s missing. He’s a templar recruit and…they won’t help. I don’t know what to do. I don’t have much money and…”

Marian sighed. Sometimes she took jobs because the pay was excellent. Sometimes she took jobs because it just seemed like the right thing to do. This fell into the second category. She listened to the young woman and nodded. Yes, she’d take this job. As much as she shouldn’t expose herself to the templars, she couldn’t refuse the saddened woman.

Returning to her friends, she offered a slight smile and a wave of the paper. “So, we have two jobs. Killing bandits for a man named, mm…Sebastian. And we need to find a missing templar recruit.” Marian figured if she just lumped them together it wouldn’t be so bad. She was wrong. Anders was not real thrilled with helping templars. Carver was beside himself that she would even think to talk to a templar. Varric was grinning at her. “Yes Varric?”

“Oh nothing, just looking forward to writing about this little adventure with you. Life is never boring with you around, Hawke.”

“So glad I can be of service,” was her dry reply.

***

“You really do remind me of somebody I once knew,”

Marian turned her face from the view of the Gallows from the ferry dock to smile up at Anders. “Oh? Did they frustrate you as much as I do?”

His huff of laughter made her chuckle. “A little. She had a terrible soft spot for people in need. Got us into all kinds of trouble and attracted the strangest followers.”

Turning to lean back against the dock railing, Marian arched an eyebrow at Anders. “Did she now? Were you one of these strange followers?”

“Maybe. Just one of the inmates, I suppose. We would have followed her anywhere. Into the very bowels of hell.” His face sobered and his hand rubbed over the neckline of his coat, patting gently at the chain she could barely see around his neck. “To death if need be,” his voice was whisper soft, achingly sad.

Marian found herself reaching for one of his hands, entwining her fingers with his. It was the most comfort she could offer him here in such a public place with her brother talking to Varric just across the small dock landing. His fingers gripped hers tightly, clung, lifted to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. Just a brush of his lips there before giving her hand another quick squeeze. His eyes met hers, sparkling with unshed tears, and for a moment they stood there with her hand held tight in his. And then the ferry pulled up and he moved away. Marian watched him stand with Varric, his face twisting into that look of mocking humor he wore so effortlessly to hide the emotions that seemed to roil and seethe in him. One day, she told herself as she moved to join her companions, she would find out about that pendant. For now, they had to focus on the job and not tipping the templars off to her apostate status. But one day, she would figure out the pain he was carrying so close in his heart.


	12. Chapter 12

Marian figured that two trips to the Gallows in two days was, perhaps, pushing her luck with staying under the radar. But this was a needed trip. They had found the missing recruit and rescued him. Unfortunately, they had rescued him from crazed blood mages who were going to attempt to stuff a demon inside of the poor man. It was with great reluctance that she found herself heading back to the Gallows to fill in the Knight-Captain about what had been found.

That she had met the Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Templars had been the first unwelcome surprise of the job. When she added in the circumstances of their meeting, well, she felt like throwing herself bodily into the water and just drowning. She could still see the demon ripping its way through the body of Templar Recruit Wilmod. She had tried to keep the spell casting to a minimum. The first reason had been practical – that was the Knight-Captain she was fighting next to. No need to flaunt her apostate status with flashy electricity storms. The second reason had been annoying. The Knight-Captain had made full use of his Templar abilities during the fight. It had been a miracle she had gotten ANY spells off.

The worst part hadn’t been fighting the demons next to a man who could, with one crook of his finger, imprison her in the Gallows. No, it had been the unwelcome realization that the Knight-Captain was actually a good-looking and rather charming man who seemed to suffer from the same social babbling disease she did. This had meant a long, rambling, stutter-filled discussion while he tried to tell her about the brothel he thought played a part in all this and she tried to not pat his shoulder in sympathy. By the time she had ascertained that she needed to go to the Blooming Rose they had both been beet red, sweating, and wringing their hands. Anders had been leaning against a rock with a highly amused look on his face for her and a scowl for the Knight-Captain. Carver had been gritting his teeth. Maker save her, Varric had been writing it all down in some little book he had managed to bring with him. The entire incident was going to end up in a one of his prurient little stories. She just knew it.

Marian had been grateful that the rest of the job had just included blood mages. Blood mages she could deal with. Blood mages didn’t care if she used all of her magic to stop them. Blood mages were a simple problem. Knight-Captains were not. With the easy part of the job done, Marian was left with the delicate job of telling the Knight-Captain that blood mages had been kidnapping recruits to turn them into little templar abominations. She was pretty sure this was not going to go over well.

To make matters worse, she had Anders and Fenris with her today. And Varric, but the dwarf never batted an eye when she took herself to the Gallows, set fire to somebody’s hair (that had been an accident), or sassed a templar. He just grinned, pulled out that damned book, and wrote something down. Anders and Fenris? When they weren’t arguing with each other, they were prodding at her. Fenris was currently giving her frowning looks while shooting concerned ones at the Gallows. Anders was glaring at Fenris every time the elf looked at her. Both of them were shuffling behind her like two angry children who had just been told to behave or else. It was into this uncomfortable tension that the ferry arrived.

***

“For the last time Fenris, I am not going to get arrested just stepping into the Gallow’s courtyard. Nobody will even look at me twice – unless, of course, you want to keep announcing to the general population that I am, indeed, an apostate.”

“This isn’t a wise course of action, Hawke. You should be more careful.” Fenris was hunched in on himself as he shifted next to Marian.

Marian sighed, laying a gentle hand on his gauntlet, careful to not touch his skin. “Fenris. It’ll be fine. Relax.”

“I thought you would approve of her coming here. Maybe giving herself up to the Knight-Captain?” Anders voice was whip sharp. He frowned when he noticed Marian’s hand on Fenris’ gauntlet. “Weren’t you just saying how magic was a curse?”

“Venhedis! You always twist my words, abomination. I would see no harm come to Hawke. She isn’t one of the mages who needs to be here. My worry is that they will harm her.”

Marian rolled her eyes as the two men started sniping at each other again. The ferry was about to dock and she had exactly two minutes to gather her thoughts before she had to tell the Knight-Captain the oh-so-good news. “Andraste’s Flaming Tits! Both you shut up! You will stay on the docks. No, not a word Anders. Not. A. Word. Varric, you come with me.” The ferry, helpfully, pulled up to the dock at that moment and she stalked off the boat with an angry stomp.

Varric eyed the two men, now sheepishly watching Marian stomp up the stairs. “Good job you two. Now she has to talk to the Knight-Captain while in a foul mood. You and I both know what that means.” Varric shook his head and turned to follow her. Anders and Fenris traded unhappy looks and moved to stand on either side of the dock, eyes focused on Marian as she disappeared up the stairs.

***

Twenty long, quiet, tension-filled minutes later and Marian was stomping back down the stairs. Her color was high in her cheeks, her lips pressed tightly together. Varric was stumping beside her, his face a mask of worry. She came to a sudden and rather violent halt at the edge of the dock, crossed her arms, and began tapping her foot. Anders and Fenris exchanged a look and quietly moved to join her.

The silence lasted till they were on the ferry. Anders’ eyes had not left her face, worry and relief for her warring with curiosity. She finally gave in, turning to her companions. “Remind me to not do any jobs for _that man_ again.”

“Alright…” Anders voice was hesitant.

“He…I…ooo.” She stomped her foot, frowning furiously down at the ferry’s deck. “Oh sure, he was all grateful that we saved Keran. Then he tried to kick the man out of the Order. So I told him Keran was free of demon influence. That’s when it got fun. After insinuating that I had used foul magic to find out about Keran, he started in on how mages aren’t people.” She prodded an angry finger into Anders’ chest. “Hear that Anders? We aren’t people. Oh no. We are highly valuable but volatile weapons that need to be locked up until needed. And we should be GRATEFUL.” Her voice rose and she started shaking. “GRATEFUL THAT THE CHANTRY IS SO DAMN UNDERSTANDING ABOUT OUR SUPPOSED CURSE.” The three men shared a look as Marian swung herself back around to shoot the Gallows angry looks. If her looks could produce flames, the entirety of the Gallows would have been a smoking ruin.

“Perhaps if we go kill something?” Varric offered into the awkward silence. “It might help?” Marian simply growled at him.

They spent the rest of the trip in silence, Marian mumbling to herself every so often. When the ferry docked, Varric grabbed Fenris and dragged him off to the Hanged Man with an “I don’t think she wants to hear how you think that tin-headed nug-brained fool is right, Broody.” Which left Anders staring at one very upset Marian.

He watched her pace on the docks, her color still high. If he let her go home like this, chances were good the templars would be called to take one crazed electricity-wielding apostate to the Gallows. By the time they had her down, the entire city block would be gone. Justice prodded at him, the spirit pleased to see Marian so upset by the injustice of the entire situation. He didn’t want to open his mouth and spew mage rights at her, though. This, obviously, was about more than just what that templar had said.

So he took her hand and led her down to the clinic. For once, he shoved her into his cubby and nagged at her to sit down. When she tossed him a mulish look, he simply pointed to his bed and stared at her till she sat. By the time he had brewed some tea and brought it to her, she had cooled off and was curled up in a ball and cuddling his pillow. He sighed, putting the cups on the one side table he owned before sitting next to her. A little noise of distress was all the warning he had before Marian was crawling onto his lap and clinging to him.

“Alright,” Anders struggled for a moment as he found himself with an armful of sniffling woman, “What is this all about?”

“You hear people say stuff sometimes, you know? Like the Chantry sisters. About mages. But Papa, he…really kept us away from the templars. I mean, we saw them sometimes. And usually they were older men who were ok. Sometimes there was a young one with a fire in his belly, and Papa would wake us up in the middle of night and we’d leave. But…just…” She rubbed her face against Anders’ chest and sighed. “Why are we so distrusted? Not every mage is a terrible person. Even blood mages! Look at Merrill!”

Anders huffed a little at that, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Sweetheart, it’s all just fear.”

“It’s not right. What he said, it’s not right. I’m a person with feelings and wants and desires and…and…” she stopped for a moment, her thoughts rambling as the words desire and wants merged with the proximity of one of the things in life that fell into both of those categories. “What he said isn’t right. And I couldn’t DO anything about it. Not without risking myself. But that seemed so cowardly.”

“If you had retaliated in any way, you’d be dead or locked up now. I’m glad you kept quiet,” Anders clutched her to his chest at the thought. His heart thudded, mouth going dry at the thought of Marian in the Gallows, Marian made Tranquil, Marian dead at the hands of the templars. His hands shook, his skin starting to glow bluish white.

“Anders?” her voice was hesitant as Marian noticed the tremors wracking him. “Anders?”

_“WE COULD NEVER ABIDE YOU BEING TOUCHED BY THEM. WE WOULD HAVE BURNED THE GALLOWS DOWN AROUND THEM TO SAVE YOU. NOW YOU SEE WHY WE FIGHT SO HARD.”_ Electric-blue eyes met hers, the unearthly voice echoing around them.

For a moment, Marian froze. This was really the first time she had ever really seen Justice. It was overwhelming and a little scary. “I…thank you. I think. Justice. I do understand why you and Anders fight so hard. Papa always said that nothing was gained by caging the best of us. That we must always strive to do what is right and good, not base.”

Anders/Justice nodded at that, a pleased smile touching their lips. Then the glow was fading and Anders’ eyes were once again the whiskey-brown she recognized. He ran a shaking hand over his face, his eyes traveling down her as he checked for injuries. “Did he hurt you? Maker help me, I am so sorry Marian. The thought of you in the Gallows it…I can’t control him when I…you mustn’t…I am a danger to you.”

“I…it was fine. He was fine. Very loud and blue, though. Impressively blue.” She shook her head. “He was worried, that’s all. I was perfectly safe. I always am around you.”

He struggled with himself, with Justice. For a brief moment, the spirit’s thoughts thundered through his head. Then Marian stroked her palm over his cheek and he settled, relaxed into her touch. Justice quieted, retreated, as she cuddled against him. They stayed like that for a while, simply holding each other as the stress of the afternoon bled away. Finally, Marian stirred, sending a smile Anders’ way. “Well, I suppose it was your turn to nag me a bit.”

Anders chuckled at that. “Are we trading off now?”

With a grin, she leaned forward to press a light kiss to his cheek. “I suppose. Though if we are, I am worlds ahead of you in the nagging department.”

The brush of her lips against his skin made every single one of his nerve endings stand up and spark. Desire roared through him at the innocent touch, and her voice blended into the symphony of want now playing through his body. Carefully, he returned her grin and then gently moved her off his lap. “Well….if I have nagging to do, then how about I nag you into coming to the Hanged Man with me? I’m sure Varric will want to know you are ok.” She beamed at him, straightening her robe and pulling him up. He was infinitely grateful that she seemed to not notice his response to her kiss. He let her pull him out of his clinic, hoping that the public venue would douse any more strong responses.


	13. Chapter 13

Carver was currently not speaking to her, not after the entire templar job. He had heard, probably from Varric, that she had had “an incident” with the Knight-Captain. So words were said, unkind and vicious ones. He then told her that if she didn’t value the family’s sacrifices for her then he was done helping her. Their mother had overheard the entire fight and had also ceased speaking to Marian. Apparently helping a templar recruit was akin to blasphemy in the Hawke household. Marian had watched her mother and brother both stew in their shared snit, had given the stink-eye to her Uncle, and had packed a bag, gathered up Dodger, and left to get another job done. Even if they weren't speaking to her, she felt obligated to continue to take care of them. She had, after all, promised Papa.

Luckily she had that bandit job from the Chanter's Board and it was just what she needed to vent her frustrations. She was loathed to take Anders and Fenris out together again so soon, but Aveline had taken one look at the bounty and had shaken her head. She was busy learning the ins and outs of becoming the next Guard Captain and this job wasn’t substantial enough to warrant her leaving the barracks. Isabela had grabbed Merrill and gone off to look for the relic she was always going on about. Marian hadn’t asked too many questions, not after the last time she had helped Isabela and ended up in that cave full of spiders.

So she grabbed Fenris and Anders and went to go issue smack-down on the bandit population. The bandits were not, per se, incredibly challenging. Each group had only a handful of men, all well-armed but surprisingly not well-skilled. Marian hadn’t been surprised. She remembered her associates in the Red Iron. Oh sure, they talked a good game and took orders like champs but had little imagination. Marian had a lot of imagination, one incredibly violent elf, and a mabari who enjoyed chasing down thugs. The groups had been put down in a matter of moments.

It wasn't nearly enough fighting to clear Marian's brain. She was still angry with her brother, angry with her mother, and just tired of Kirkwall in general. Walking back to town, she let her mind wander back to Ferelden, to Lothering. To her Papa. She missed him terribly. Missed his pep talks, his smiles, the way he always made her feel special. He smoothed out her mother's worries, eased Carver's jealousies, and always seemed to have an extra moment for her. Her sigh attracted Anders' attention and he glanced over at her, saw the frown lines on her forehead. He didn't say anything, just took her hand and squeezed it. It wasn't her father, it wasn't Ferelden, it wasn't home in Lothering, but Marian figured it was enough.

***

“Are you sure I'm not imposing? I could go harass Varric or stay with Merrill,” Marian fussed at Anders. He just smiled and took her pack from her and placed it in a corner of his cubby. “I know you are always busy...”

“Marian, I'm not going to let you stay in the Hanged Man or with a blood mage, even if you did bring that mabari down here to my clinic. And since Aveline sleeps in the barracks, Isabela has constant bed-mates, and Fenris is basically squatting in Hightown, I would feel terrible if I turned you away. You are down here often enough, I think I can manage a few nights while your mother and brother pull their heads out of their asses.” Anders face was stern when he turned to her. “And you _will_ take my bed and you _will not_ argue with me.”

“I couldn't...you get so little sleep as it is. I just wouldn't feel right if...oof!” Marian pinwheeled her arms in an effort to stay standing after being shoved, gently, toward the bed in question. She lost her balance and landed heavily on it with a squeak and glare up at him. “I am not sleeping here.”

“Yes you are. Stop being so stubborn about it. I'm setting a cot up right outside in case I get any patients. Dodger can sleep out there with me. _You_ are going to sleep. Even if I have to use magic to do it.”

Marian huffed and turned her face to the wall, offering him her petulant profile. He chuckled, patted her head, and went to wrestle a cot closer to the privacy screen, pointing at a corner for Dodger to curl up in. She sat there for a moment, listening to him shove furniture around and talk to the dog, and finally sighed in defeat. She had wondered who would be the more stubborn and she had to admit, he won this round. Deep down inside, Marian admitted that he had won because she couldn't say no to him. That thought propelled her into action and she leapt up to pull out sleep clothes and get ready for bed. _At least I can make sure he eats if I'm down here,_ she thought as she curled up under his thin covers.

Anders smiled when he peeked in a little bit later and saw Marian curled up and asleep in his bed. Something about seeing her there, wrapped in his blankets and clutching at his pillow, made his heart swell. Quietly, he moved to the chair next to the bed and sat down, his eyes still on her face. It was troubling how much he thought about her. It was equally troubling when he realized how possessive he was getting of her, how territorial. The mere _thought_ of Marian going to anybody else for help had made him jealous.

He smoothed back her hair, slid a finger down her cheek and watched her nose scrunch. Justice swam into his eyes and for a moment, they both just watched her. He could feel Justice's thoughts on the matter, his worry for her. They both feared that she'd be found, caught, taken to the Gallows. Her free-spirit and generous heart would be crushed there. If they couldn't subdue her spirit, they would make her tranquil. He knew it. He also knew he'd burn this city to the ground, kill every inhabitant, to keep that from happening.

With a shake and a small frown, he stood and made his way to his writing desk. Time to stop mooning over something he couldn't have. Shouldn't want. He needed to work, to focus. Justice radiated approval at those thoughts, even as Anders' heart clenched in pain. His duty to his promise kept him at his desk, writing late into the night. His heart, however, was back in the little cubby with Marian, watching her as she slept.

***

It was the steady rat-a-tat-tat that woke Marian up. For a moment, she was back in Gamlen's shack and it was a creditor beating on the door. When nobody went to answer said door, she opened her eyes and found herself in Anders' clinic, curled up in Anders' bed, and drooling into Anders' pillow. She sat up, her eyes wide, and patted at her chest. _Oh good,_ she thought, _I am wearing clothing. Wait, why am I worried about that?_ She shook her head and slipped from the bed, padding out into the main part of the clinic to see what all the noise was about.

The noise was a man with a stab wound. Marian peeked up at the high windows, noted the dark sky, and let him in with a sigh. She glanced around the clinic to see where Anders was and sighed again when she spotted him draped over his writing table, Dodger curled up at his feet. _I guess I'm it for healing. This poor, poor man._

Ten stressful minutes later and Marian was escorting the now-healed man from the clinic with a firm grip and fixed smile. She peeked outside, saw the blasted lantern was still lit, and resolutely blew the blighted thing out. She then re-barred the door and made her way to the sleeping mage. Foot tapping, she shook Anders' shoulder.

“Wazzit? Who's hurt?” Anders blinked blearily up at Marian. “Hmm? What did you need sweetheart?”

Use of endearment aside, and Marian cataloged that for later thought, she leveled a stony look at him. “I thought you were going to sleep in that cot over there.”

Anders glanced at the cot and then back to Marian's face. “I was...am... just working for a bit and...why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh no. You don't get to boss me around and then sleep on your table. You are either coming to bed or I am dressing and marching myself to the Hanged Man. I will sleep in the main room if need be. Those are your options. You either come to bed now or I leave.” Her eyebrow had reached her hairline and her eyes were flint-hard.

Anders could only gawk at her when she pulled him up and shoved him back toward the cubby. “If I'm in the bed, where will you be?” He asked in a slight panic.

“We've both squeezed in there once before. We can do it again.”

“Marian, I am not sharing a bed with you.”

“Why not?” Now she was leveling narrowed eyes at him. “Something wrong with me?”

“Er. No? I just...it probably isn't...can't you be reasonable?”

“Either get in the bed or I go to the Hanged Man. I'm tired. It's late. I just healed up a man who leered at me because SOMEBODY left the lantern burning and then fell asleep over his table. Again. You have ink on your cheek. I am tired and cranky, Anders. Tired and cranky.”

Anders had to admit she looked adorable standing there, stomping the floor to punctuate each sentence. He sighed. If this is what it took to get her back to sleep then, Maker help him, he'd go to bed. Justice had retreated in the face of Marian's outburst, a fact that Anders found both amusing and annoying. He could have used a little bit of help, but he supposed...if he had to share a bed with Marian...it couldn't be helped.

So it was with little fuss that he found himself in his bed, Marian scrunched against the wall because while he would share his bed, he wouldn't let her hang off the end again. His arms were wrapped around her, ostensibly to keep him on the bed but really because he could get away with it. She was nuzzled back against his chest and making soft, sleepy noises. His chin was tucked against the crown of her head, her hair teasing at his stubble. He smiled when she pulled one of his hands up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before relaxing into sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Light filtered through the high windows of the clinic, playing over the narrow bed tucked into the back corner. It was quiet, the bustle of healing not yet started. Anders lay curled under the covers, his lanky body curved around Marian's. She slept deeply still, his arm clutched against her, peaceful and without dreams. Her scent clung to his pillow, his blankets, his shirt and trousers. He wondered if he'd have the courage to clean them, to scrub the memory from them as much as he knew he should be scrubbing this memory from his mind. He knew he wouldn't, knew he would fold the blanket up and place it in his little chest of memories to keep, to remind him of who he is – seen through the eyes of the woman sleeping in his arms.

For the third time in his life, Anders found himself faced with the deep emotion of love lacing itself into his heart. Only this time she was free. She wasn't tied to another. That made it, somehow, harder. It had been easy to love Eavan, easy to give himself to her knowing that she would most likely choose Alistair. How could she not? An apostate over a king? That didn't happen in real life. And as amazing as his time with her had been, Anders had always known there would be an ending to the love. And he had accepted that. It had been hard but not unknown. After all, his love for Karl had been with the constrictions of the Circle. He had been free to love but only in the confines of secrecy. His love for Eavan had been the same. In the quiet of their room, in the shadows of a shared tent, they had been free to love and laugh. But Marian...Marian offered love with no restrictions, no hiding, no limit. And it scared him.

His whole life, from the moment the templars dragged him from his sobbing mother to the day he found himself conscripted into the Wardens, had been corded together by rules – rules to follow and rules to break. But here, in his arms, was a love that had no rules. Marian refused them. She had never followed them to begin with. She was a mage with no fear of loving, no fear of templar abuse, and no fear of Chantry backlash. For her, magic just was. It was just part of what made Marian, well, Marian. It wasn't a curse; it was just part of life. For him, magic had always been something to rail against even as he embraced the sheer freedom that came from being able to harness the Fade.

Even now, he wasn't truly free to love her. He had accepted Justice and that acceptance had brought with it terrible responsibilities and terrifying power. He knew he wasn't sane, wasn't stable. He knew she would be better off with another. And he would let her go if that happened. As much as she doted on him, he knew she should be with somebody who could give her a happy life. When faced with a decision like Eavan had been, Anders fully expected Marian to choose the other man. He was an impoverished apostate, an abomination, and worth less than the dirt that skittered over the floor of his clinic. If he had been worth more, surely Eavan would have stayed. Surely his father wouldn't have sold him out to the templars.

She stirred, wiggling around to face him. Pressed against his chest, leaning back against the circle of his arms, Marian's eyes met his and her face slowly lit into brilliant happiness. He felt his own lips curving up, felt himself responding to her joy at seeing him. Was this, then, what love was? Seeing the face of the one person who could chase away the dark, knowing that was the face you would see before you closed your eyes at night? Knowing that the next day, they would still be there, still looking at you with such happiness? He wasn't sure, but for him, that was love. This...this was what he was sure the poets wrote about.

Marian's nose scrunched up as she let her eyes wander down Anders' face. He watched the wheels turning behind her eyes, watched her hold up words and discard them in an effort to not sound silly. She always thought she sounded so silly; she never realized that her babbling was a comfort to him. He saved her from the sudden anxiety now sparking in her eyes with a gentle smile and a “Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”

Maker save him, she stretched against him. He felt the brush of her entire body: legs, stomach, breasts, like the torturous brush of silk against bare skin. Her shirt rode up and he could see the delicate skin of her stomach flush, watched her face as the pink gently bloomed up her neck and into her cheeks. He couldn't resist, his hands settling over the bare skin of her lower back to rub and caress. Satin, smooth, warm skin that he couldn't seem to stop touching. Her lips parted at the touch, the blush deepening from the delicate pink to a deep rose. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, couldn't seem to stop the gentle press of his hand to fit her closer to him. And she did fit, was the perfect complement to him. Flush against his body, her face so close to his he could see the azure flecks in her eyes, Anders struggled to find his control. He was a hairs breadth from taking her, from lowering his head and consuming her. She exhaled a soft sigh, the breath washing over his face, and he found himself closing the distance to press a light kiss to the tip of her nose, the soft swell of her cheek, the edge of her mouth.

He let his fingers trail over her skin one more time before he moved to sit up. Swallowing his desire, his want for her, he turned and offered her a smile. Her lips were still parted, her eyes on his. Banked flames sizzled there, leapt out to sear him with her desire. It was writ across her face plainly, her want there for him to see. He could take, he could pleasure, he could hurt, and he knew he should turn her away. Instead, he leaned back down to press the most chaste of kisses on her lips, finding her taste just before he returned to sitting. Then he stood and went to wash his face, to light the lantern, to start the day.

He had just opened the doors to the clinic when Marian emerged from his cubby. Her smile for him blazed across the clinic, something flickering in her eyes. He could only grip the door as she turned to put the kettle on for tea and start to put out bandages and potions. Is this what it could be like? He healing and her helping? Living like a real couple? Could that ever be?

Justice slipped into his consciousness and watched through his eyes as Marian reached up for a potion on a high shelf. She seemed to sparkle in the light from the high windows – the high windows he had used to judge his time here in Kirkwall as he healed and simply existed. As he wrote and paced like a mad man. She had even invaded that, turned the light from something that he marked only to judge when to close the clinic into a blessing of happiness. Justice prodded him, pressing at him. It wasn't harsh, wasn't the angry press of need to write and change. It was the gentle idea that perhaps, perhaps he should see if she would help them. For Justice, Marian was the woman who represented everything they were fighting for.

For Anders, Marian was the woman he had fallen in love with.


	15. Chapter 15

Marian stayed busy. That was really the only way she could deal with Anders and her emotions and…well…Anders. She stayed very busy. The minute she stopped, the minute she took a break, she was back in the clinic, in his arms, being kissed. And while Marian Hawke was unafraid of, well, just about everything Kirkwall had thrown at her – minus the spiders, which everybody had agreed rated pretty high on the scary chart – she was a big coward in the face of Anders and her growing love. So she stayed busy.

She turned in that bounty to the, and this had her simultaneously wanting to roll her eyes and thwack her head repeatedly against the impressively gold statue of Andraste, former Brother of the Chantry and now Prince of Starkhaven. A one, Sebastian Vael. The man had no right having eyes that blue, eyelashes that long, dimples that adorable, or that accent. She would have found herself on the cusp of a crush if Anders hadn’t accompanied her. She had spent the entire conversation comparing the two men. Consequently, she had spent the entire conversation beet red and babbling.

To make matters worse, or better depending on how she looked at it, she was back at her Uncle’s. After three days spent at Anders’ clinic, Carver had shown up with a bunch of mail and a plea to please come home. Apparently, her mother had finally realized her apostate daughter was down in Darktown with another apostate and doing terrible apostate things that would eventually bring down the wrath of the templars. Marian was sure that thought had been spurred on by the fact that Gamlen had taken nearly five sovereigns from the house fund and disappeared for several days. So, mail in hand and apology on his lips, Carver had shown up to escort Marian home. She had gone, emotions in turmoil.

So she stayed busy. She took other people out with her on her jobs. Merrill and Isabela helped her locate the missing wife, well what was left of her, of a skeevy merchant. Fenris had gone with her to suss out a missing criminal. Varric and Carver had been with her the night she decided to shove Meeran’s job up his arse. And she had brought the entire crew with her to rescue the Viscount’s son – a job that had earned her a handshake from the Viscount and the stink-eye from his Seneschal. She avoided Darktown, avoided being with Anders alone, and avoided thinking about her feelings for a couple of weeks.

And then the letter landed on her desk. It was “from a friend.” A friend who knew what she had done for Feynriel. The only two people who might want to hire her after that was the mom and the templar and Marian didn’t think this was from the mother. She looked down at the letter and took herself to Darktown to talk to Anders about it. Sometimes it paid to have a worldly apostate’s thoughts before accepting or refusing a job. She would just be…professional. Yes. And friendly. Yes, friendly.

***

Anders had lost weight since Marian had seen him. She wasn’t sure, his coat was always pretty baggy, but his wrists looked bonier and his face leaner. He wasn’t getting enough to eat and she hadn’t been by with food, too scared to be alone with him. The guilt gnawed at her, ate into her gut as she realized how selfish her actions had been. Hadn’t he expected this? Her to flee from him in fear? Was she really no better than the other people who had left him because he was too intense, too difficult, too…everything? Her worries overwhelmed her for a moment and she stood just inside the clinic doors, her hand over her mouth as she castigated herself.

Anders, for his part, had just assumed that Marian had either been scared away or was being kept away from him. He wasn’t surprised, just deeply saddened. Those three days she had been with him in the clinic had been heavenly, if a bit stressful on his control. Still, he missed her and wondered if it was time he crawled from his hole and just sought her out. He even had Justice’s backing on the entire search for Marian idea, but from the perspective that Anders had screwed up an opportunity to further the mage right’s campaign. So it was with great joy that he noticed Marian standing near the doors, hand to her face, and rocking nervously. He wasn’t too surprised by the nervous rocking. She did it just about every other time she came down to see him. Still, the look on her face worried him.

Marian came up for air from the sea of remorse she was currently swimming in to see Anders standing in front of her, concerned eyes roaming over her face. She blinked. Yep, still there and still looking handsome if a bit skinny. He opened his mouth to say something and her relief at seeing him overwhelmed her. All he got out was an “oof” as she launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around him in an intensely tight hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and started sobbing “I’m sorry” and “I’ve missed you” over and over again. Anders could only stand there, arms stuck in her embrace, and ride out the storm of tears and hugs. He loved every second of it.

Eventually, she quieted and he was able to wrestle his arms out of the constricting hug. He chuckled, he couldn’t help it, his laugh shaking her slightly. Then it was his turn to wrap his arms around her, relief at seeing her in his clinic overriding everything else. He had forgotten how she smelled, how she felt in his arms, how her voice made him happy. Finally, he rubbed his cheek against the side of her head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Marian, sweetheart, are you ok?”

She hiccupped in response, her face that lovely shade of pink that made him smile. “Are you? You look skinnier and...I haven't been here and I'm so sorry. It wasn't you it was me and I'm a horrible friend and terrible person for leaving you alone and not coming down here.” Marian inhaled, her eyes searching his face for a sign that he wasn't mad.

Anders could only shake his head and give her another squeeze. “I'll admit, I was worried about you. If you hadn't shown up, well, I'd be out looking for you. But you're here and that's all that matters. You came back. Whatever happened to make you leave, if I did something, I'm sorry.”

“No. No no. It wasn't you...no...I'm just...a coward.” she exhaled. Anders started at that, his eyes widening.

“You? A coward? Perish the thought. But it's no matter. None. Let's just sit down. I've missed you.” His arm still around her, Anders maneuvered them both to a cot. He couldn't seem to stop touching her, to leave her side. He knew he should give her more space but he just couldn't seem to. Her presence made his entire existence brighter. Still, something had driven her away. If he couldn't have Marian as a lover, he wanted her as a friend. Justice wouldn't tolerate his obsessing, he wouldn't tolerate him crossing lines, but he would tolerate a friendship. Anders could be a friend.

Marian watched the strain drain from Anders' face as they sat. He was still touching her, but she could feel him placing a wall between them. It was...not what she wanted. Not at all. But she needed time. She needed to get through the expedition, needed to get her family settled before she could even think to pursue anything for herself. With a mental shake, she launched into the reason why she was there. Pulling out the letter, she showed it to Anders and asked his advice. Asked what he would do.

And it was simple. He would go with her. He would help. Marian felt something right itself in her chest, something that had been off-kilter for the past two weeks. She knew what it was, knew without even questioning it. She was with Anders, and that made everything more bearable.


	16. Chapter 16

Anders hadn’t been sure it was possible, but he had fallen even more in love with Marian after this last job. Hearing from Thrask that the job entailed gathering up escaped mages from the Starkhaven Circle had put him on edge. Thrask was a templar and Marian was an apostate. Would she curry favor with the order by selling out mages? Justice had sat just behind his eyes, both of them holding their shared breath – and releasing it on a happy sigh and a small smile when she informed Thrask that killing people for the templars wasn’t an option.

Walking back to town, he found himself reaching for her hand, needing that small contact. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive as just a friend to her, wasn’t sure it was possible, but he would do anything necessary to keep Marian Hawke in his life. He just didn’t enjoy watching other men flirt with her. He especially didn’t enjoy watching Fenris flirt with her.

Fenris had gone with them because Carver had been busy with Merrill. Marian hadn’t said what they were doing, just frowned a little and waved her arms around. When Anders had asked about bringing Aveline, her frown had deepened. “Look,” she had said with a deep sigh, “Aveline is a wonderful friend and I love her like a sister, but bringing her on any job that could potentially deal with apostates is risking her arresting them. If just to keep me safe. So…we’ll bring Fenris. He may not like mages and he’ll tell us all about it, but he’ll listen to me.”

So Fenris had come with them. He hadn’t been happy with Marian releasing the mages. In fact, his face had grown grim and his frown more prominent. But the moment they stepped outside of the caves and into a knot of armed templar, well. He had decimated most of the templar with no trouble and then had gone to fuss over Marian. And she had let him; that was the sticking point for Anders. Marian had let Fenris yell at her, his face pushed so close to hers they were practically kissing, and all she had done was offer him a gentle hug and a smile. Not only had she offered the elf comfort, but the elf had allowed it – even if it had been for a brief moment. It had been long enough, though, for Anders to see the relief clouding the elf’s eyes. Enough for the seed of jealousy to be planted in Anders’ heart.

It was maddening. Maddening! Anders had always figured that he’d watch some merchant or lower nobility drag her away from him. But Fenris? The mage hating elf? It was…he couldn’t…Anders’ fingers squeezed Marian’s and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He could only gaze back her, pain radiating from him. She had sighed, squeezed his hand back, and told the group she’d walk Anders home.

***

Marian wasn’t sure what was going on with Anders. To be fair, she hadn’t been around him much the last couple of weeks and that could be part of why he was clinging to her. She was always so intensely aware of how alone he was, how the rest of the group perceived him. She had a feeling he had gone through life being labeled as difficult or hard to be around and had, consequently, decided to fulfill everyone’s expectations. And Marian had to admit that he pulled off difficult well. But, the way he was acting now was…it was different.

They had made it down to the clinic with no problems, a small relief after their trip to the coast. Usually, even if it was after a job, Anders opened the clinic. It didn’t matter if he was dead tired; he would light the lantern and help those who had waited for him to return. But tonight he didn’t. He ignored the lantern and locked the doors behind her. She could only watch as he started to pace.

“Fenris…” he started and then stopped, his hands tearing at his hair. “Are you and Fenris?”

Marian blinked at him. “Are we what? Friends? I like to think we are, though I’m not sure Fenris really understands friendship just yet.”

Anders moved to her, wrapped his hands around her upper arms, hauled her to him, “Are you and Fenris together?”

“No?” Marian still wasn’t sure what all this was about. She being held tightly against Anders, her body flush to his. He inhaled at her no, flexed his hands. It didn’t seem possible, but he pulled her even closer. His lips feathered over hers, a tantalizingly, teasingly, whisper soft kiss that spread instant heat down her body. He held her there, his lips ghosting over hers as he came to terms with that “no.”

“No?” he whispered against her lips, his brushing hers again.

It took every ounce of Marian’s personal fortitude to move her head back. What she wanted to do was sink into the kiss, pry his mouth open and devour him. But it wouldn’t have been fair to him or to her, not like this. Not when his eyes were pleading with her, begging her. She wanted, oh how she wanted, for him to come to her not in fear but in honest want. So she pulled her head back and smiled, “No, I am not with Fenris. Not like that. Not that he isn’t a handsome man or worthy of my affections…because he is. I just don’t see him in that light.”

She watched Anders’ eyes clear, watched as his lips curl up into a small smile. “That's..ok...good. Ok. Should I apologize?”

Her laugh was breathy, “No. Though I’ll remember this moment the next time you let Isabela lay a finger on you.” She skimmed a hand over his chin, stroked a finger over his lips. He kissed her finger tips and pressed his forehead to hers, his hands slipping to her back to stroke over her in long sweeps. She exhaled and relaxed against him. 

Neither of them seemed willing to admit that they had, pretty much, declared themselves off the market. No words were spoken when Anders moved them to a cot, settling down with Marian pressed tightly to his side. The implications weren’t lost on either of them, just not spoken of. Instead, they discussed what had happened with the mages and the templars. They spoke of their discontent with the current state of affairs in Kirkwall. They even talked about Dodger and his penchant for stealing Gamlen’s socks. But their feelings for each other remained untouched – a topic of conversation neither of them was willing or ready to delve into.


	17. Chapter 17

Marian smiled at all of her friends sitting around the table in Varric's suite. All of them had helped her get to this point and she felt it only appropriate and right that they all be present for her big announcement. Well, except for Carver, who was currently at home stewing over her decisions, but she put that out of her mind for the moment.

“I am very happy to report that with the money made from the last job, which was a horrible job but at least paid well, I have finally been able to pay my way into the Deep Roads Expedition!” A wave of congratulations swelled from the table as mugs were waved in the air. “And I wanted you all to be here when I name off those poor sots unlucky enough to go with me.” That caused some laughter. “It goes without saying that Varric is coming – this is all his fault, he has to be there.” Varric chuckled and offered a short bow to Marian.

“Wouldn't miss it, Hawke. I've got extra notebooks ready to immortalize your adventures.”

Marian grimaced a little, but turned a smile back to the table. “Fenris, I am asking if you would join me. I could use your sword arm and your strength.”

The elf looked surprised and pleased, standing to offer a stiff bow. “I would be honored to go with you, Hawke. You've helped me a great deal. I would return the favor.”

“You say that now, but when we've been down there for a month and we all smell like nugs, well...” She watched the smile slowly travel up his face, his eyes laughing at her. “Right. And the final unlucky sot is Anders. As much as I hate to drag him away from the glamour of Darktown, he's the only Warden I know.”

Anders smiled up at her from his seat. “Well, what's one more trip into the blighted Deep Roads? Right? It's nothing I haven't seen before.”

“And that's why you're going. Drinks are on me tonight!” She beamed when everybody cheered and took a seat next to Anders. “Are you really ok with going?”

Anders slid his finger around the rim of his cup, thinking of how best to answer her. He wasn't ok with going, not at all. But he also wouldn't leave her in the Deep Roads with a surface dwarf and an elf he didn't trust. And he didn't think he could stand being in the clinic alone for that long – not any more. His eyes met hers and he answered her honestly, “I'm not looking forward to it, Marian. But I would never let you go there without me.”

Her hand brushed over his thigh under the table, a hidden gesture of comfort, understanding, and thanks. “I wouldn't want to go without you, either.” She gave his thigh a quick squeeze, causing him to blush a bit, and then turned to talk to Merrill.

***

Her friends who were lucky enough, and really that's how Marian saw it, to stay on the surface all promised to check in on Carver and her mother. Carver was angry with her, angry that she wouldn't take him, angry that she was taking that damned apostate and elf instead. He didn't understand that her promise to Papa almost made it mandatory that he stay home. She needed him to watch Mother, needed him to step up, and he was refusing to look past his hurt ego to see the necessity of the situation. But Merrill had seen the anguish in Marian's eyes when she asked the group to keep an eye on her family and had pulled her aside.

“Lethalin, do not fret, I will look out for Carver.” Marian had looked into the little elf's eyes and seen compassion and affection swirling there.

“Then I will rest easier, thank you Merrill.” She had hugged her then, pressed the little elf close to her. “You be careful while I'm gone. Please? Don't do anything to tempt the templars.” Merrill had laughed at that and had pressed a quick kiss to Marian's cheek.

Aveline had sworn to check in on the family twice a week and have extra patrols outside of Gamlen's house. She had pulled Marian into a rough hug, a quick squeeze that was filled with affection and fear. “You had better come back, Marian Hawke. You understand?” Her eyes had been bright with unshed tears. “Nothing is worth your life.”

And Marian had nodded, had pressed Aveline's hand, and promised. “I won't be like Bethany. And nobody will have to put me down from blight sickness. I am bringing a healer and Warden with me. We’ll be fine.” Aveline had sniffed at that, patted Marian's shoulder, and gone to have another drink.

Isabela had surprised Marian the most, though. She had taken her hands, smiled into her face, and promised to keep an eye on the boys while in the Hanged Man and the Blooming Rose. “I'll make sure Gamlen isn't drinking away the house funds and Carver isn't being taken advantage of.”

“Why Isabela...I...”

“Didn't think I'd care so much? Oh sweet thing, you're shades different than I had expected. And you always put up with me. I expect you to come back with sordid tales of you and Fenris and that impossible apostate.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I want all the dirty details.”

Marian had smacked Isabela's arm and then pressed a quick kiss to the pirate's cheek. “Right. The only stories I'll have of those two will involve me spanking them with my staff.”

“Kinky,” was the response she got.

***

Anders walked Marian home, held her before she went into her Uncle’s hovel, buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent. He didn’t want to let her go down to the Deep Roads, didn’t want her exposed to that world, to the taint. His heart thudded with fear for her and he griped her tighter. And she had laughed into his ear, had cupped his face in her hands, and had pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her eyes held his, her fingers caressing him, and she simply smiled before turning to go up to her home. He watched her, eyes full of worry and love, and then turned to head down to his clinic.

He didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he opened his little chest of memories, pulled out the soft green nightgown and held it to his face. Her smell was still there in the small folds and creases. The smell of Eavan. He patted the nightgown, putting it back in the chest and pulled out a tattered blanket – one of his from his bed, the one that had held him and Marian when she had stayed with him. He placed it to the side and then pulled out a scarf – ragged and dirty. He put it to the side as well. A sigh and he repacked the chest, went to a long, locked box and pulled a key from his coat.

The box held a long staff, twisting heads writhing on one end and a wicked blade on the other. He wrapped his hand around it, felt the familiar tingle of electricity. The smooth wood took him back to the horrors of before. His past trips to the deep. This was all that was left of his Warden gear, all that he really needed to face the Darkspawn. He set it aside, packed his bag, and sat on his bed. He had already made notes for his volunteers. Had already made potions and bandages. He had known she would take him, would have insisted. There was nothing to do but sleep and wait till morning, wait to find out when they would leave. He lay on his bed and thought of Marian, the blanket with her smell wrapped around him.


	18. Chapter 18

Time in the Deep Roads was a funny thing. Had it been two days or ten? Anders had always hated the way the Deep Roads messed with his sense of time. Had always hated the way the gloom settled and sank into every crevice, every nook, till he was pretty sure they walked in a haze of never-ending twilight. The Deep Roads were exactly as grim as he had remembered, were as nightmarish as his dreams liked to conjure them. The fetid air, the slick sheen of taint that coated sections of wall and sometimes road, the rubble and shifting stone that always seemed a second away from crumbling, and overriding it all, the faint hum of spawn in his mind. He felt it, the return of his Warden senses, and he understood then what Eavan had once told him – that the tainted blood they drank not only tied them to the darkspawn but also to every Warden who had once walked the Deep Roads. Anders strode into the gloom and felt the memories of the Wardens who had come before him reach out and wrap around him.

It had been…days he reckoned…since Bartrand had locked them in. Had gone crazy from what, Anders wasn’t sure. Perhaps that blighted statue they had found. Had he not said it was imbued with dark magic? But of course the dwarves had taken one look at the red-lyrium monstrosity and had decided to keep it. In his madness Bartrand had locked them in in, and they were lost in the deep with nothing but his Warden senses and Varric’s atrophied stone sense to guide them. Anders was going mad from it. The unending twilight and chittering and rot – it was getting to him.

Every time they stopped to camp, he would watch with crazed eyes as his companions slept. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do much more than grip the scarf and his pendant and rock himself in the gloom. The whispers came then, voices from the past to haunt him. His companions would find him like that, teeth clenched and hands shaking, rocking as the memories assailed him. Varric and Fenris had taken to leaving him be. But Marian, Marian couldn’t.

And finally, after what seemed like days of non-stop rocking, non-stop fear, Marian came to him. While the others slept she took his hand and eased him down to the stone floor. She settled him against a clear patch of wall and crawled onto his lap, wrapped him in her arms, hummed him a lullaby, and he slept, finally, with her pressed to him, her scent in his nose. He slept and didn’t dream of Eavan or the darkspawn or templars.

***

It was apparent to Marian that Anders was unraveling. She couldn’t stand it a moment longer, the pain he radiated was almost overwhelming. The next time they stopped, she had waited patiently for Varric and Fenris to sleep before pulling Anders down. She had held him as he slept, her head pillowed on his bony chest. He was so thin, so brittle. She worried for him, guilt eating at her for being the one to drag him back into the abyss of the Deep Roads.

He woke before the others, his body unused to more than a scant hour or two of sleep. She felt him move under her, felt his hand shift against her back, and wished she could give him more time to rest. “You should go back to sleep,” she whispered.

“Can’t. Not yet at least.” 

“Want to talk about it?” Marian had moved back some, tilted her head so she could look into his eyes.

Anders cleared his throat and looked away from her for a moment. “Eavan warned me about this once. I…didn’t believe her.”

“Eavan?”

“The Warden Commander, Eavan. She told me that coming back to the Deep Roads would awaken memories. She was right.” His hand slipped to his neck, tugged out a small silver pendant. He hesitated a moment and then held it out to her.

Marian leaned forward, took the pendant in her hand and turned it, brushed her thumb over the lovely griffon engraving on the one side and the name Eavan on the back. It took her a moment to comprehend what she was looking at, the significance. When it hit her, she inhaled sharply, her eyes flying to his face. “You and the Warden Commanders were…” her voice petered out.

“Lovers? In love? Yes…for a brief time.” Anders patted the pendant fondly. “She…her and…” he stopped, swallowed.

“I thought she was the paramour of the King.” Marian’s voice was hushed, incredulous.

“She is. She chose him.” Anders refused to make eye-contact, his hand brushing over his face. “I…wasn’t…”

“I know you aren’t going to say good enough, right Anders? Because that’s…balderdash. She should never have…if she was…how could you…” Marian’s face flushed. “To toy with you…”

“Marian. Love…it wasn’t like that. At all. She was alone. More alone than I was, I think. And she was struggling with her duty. We fell in love, yes. But I never expected her to stay.”

Marian didn’t know what to say to him. Words couldn’t quite encompass her emotions on the Eavan topic or on his calling her his love. It was, perhaps, not the place for her to question it. Or him. Or her own emotions. So she did the one thing she knew would help and returned to holding him. “I suppose it’s her loss then, hmm?” She left it at that, squeezing him till he chuckled gently and patted her back.

“I suppose so…” was his reply.


	19. Chapter 19

They were rich. That was what ran through Marian’s head. They were rich and it meant diddly squat in the face of her brother’s betrayal. She had no words for her emotions, for how she felt walking triumphantly into Gamlen’s little hovel and seeing Carver standing there in full templar regalia. No words as her eyes fell upon the hated Sword of Mercy adorning his shiny breastplate. No words in the face of her mother’s anger, her mother’s grief. No words to quiet her inner crying as Carver and her mother placed this on her shoulders. Once again, her magic was held up as a thing to hate, to despise, to hide. Once again, Carver used what she was as an excuse for his actions. And once again, her mother allowed it.

She had stood, speechless, as Carver cleaved through her heart and had left as her mother had collapsed and her Uncle spewed his viciousness. Every last feeling of accomplishment fled in the face of her family. So she picked up her pack and turned her tired feet toward the one place she knew she could find solace and acceptance, to the one person who didn’t seem to want to wring anything from her but her companionship.

The lantern wasn’t lit, she noted dully. She just hoped a door was unlocked because she was pretty sure she’d just burn down a locked one. But a door was unlocked and she slipped into the clinic. Her exhale of relief made Anders turn, his eyes meeting hers with shocked surprise.

“Marian? Why aren’t you home celebrating?”

She stood there, her eyes taking in Anders’ face, and felt the tears spill over her eyes. She still had no words, nothing but the pain of failure and loss that seemed to coil and choke her. Anders saw her face contort with grief and he went to her, gathered her up, and settled with her on a cot.

“Marian. What is it?”

“Carver,” she choked, “He…he’s…” She couldn’t say it. Saying it would make it real. Would cement the fact that her brother had joined the very order they were trying to hide from. Pressing her face against Anders’ shoulder, she sobbed out her anguish. He held her, rocked her, waited for her to calm. And eventually she was able to pull her face away from him to try again. “He…joined the templars.”

“What?!” Anders’ voice was a mixture of raw shock and anger. “How could he? What…did he tell them about you?”

Marian’s head shook violently, “No…no. He said he wouldn’t. Said it would reflect poorly on him, having an apostate sister. That my secret was safe provided I stay away. He said it was my fault. Mine for leaving him there, leaving mother. That if I hadn’t been a mage, that if I hadn't let Bethany die, if I hadn’t left them…he said it was me. It was because of me. And mother agreed.”

Anders watched her dissolve into tears. His Marian, his strength and heart, simply crumpled against him. He held her close and made soothing noises while Justice raged in his mind. The urge to go to the Gallows, to drag Carver out and beat him, was so strong Anders shook with it. But that wouldn’t help her, wouldn’t heal the hurt she was feeling. And she had come to him for support and healing.

So Anders did what Marian would have done if the tables were turned. He tucked her onto a cot and went to wrestle with the giant tub. And when the water was ready, he gently nagged her till she went behind his screen to bathe. He made tea. He pulled out rations – the only food currently in the clinic – and waited for Marian to come out and join him.

She finally came out, damp from the bath and dressed in his one clean shirt. He didn’t say a word, just made a mental note to do laundry. He gathered her up, laid with her on a cot, tucked her against his chest. He couldn’t stop himself, the need to be with her overwhelming him. And when she asked in a small voice if she could stay with him for a few days, he agreed. Anything for her, to help her, to make her happy.

***

Marian steadfastly refused to return to Gamlen’s hovel until she had dealt with the Viscount about the Amell estate. So what was supposed to be a few days turned into nearly a month. Nearly a month of her sleeping next to him and working in the clinic – when she wasn’t harassing the Viscount or dealing with Varric. But within a month she had the Viscount cornered and agreeable on the Amell estate. Varric had managed to sell enough of their findings for her to put down the money for the title.

As soon as that was in hand, she went to Gamlen’s and informed her mother that they were, once again, owners of a Hightown mansion. She gave her mother a budget, the keys, and escaped with her personal belongs. She refused a hand in decorating the mansion, she didn’t care. She simply told her mother to send word via the Hanged Man when everything was in order. Then she took her meager belongings and went to see Merrill.

She spent a week with Merrill, a week with Fenris, and the rest with Varric. She visited Anders nearly daily to work with him in the clinic. Her friends were understanding in the face of all this. Only Merrill had a gentle word for Carver, having known he was joining the order. But everybody else, well, in the face of Marian’s heartbreak they all rallied behind her.

***

Time slipped by, marked by the gentle rise and fall of the sun as seen through the sparkling glass of a Hightown mansion. She moved in and worked to settle into a life of high society, worked to mend her relationship with her mother. She took in two dwarves from the expedition, ostensibly as help but mainly because Bodahn insisted he owed her a debt for saving his son. She went with her mother to societal functions, worked to quell the anxiety she felt in the face of each event. She donated, as was proper, to the Chantry – an act that had her hiding in Darktown with Anders for two days from the stress of talking to Chantry leaders.

And before she knew it, three years had slipped away. Three years of living in Hightown, of playing the noblewoman. Three years of watching Anders watching her, seeing in his eyes the fear that she would slip away from him and find a nobleman to marry. Three years of her mother working to turn her from the awkward, bumbling apostate into a socialite daughter. Three years of not hearing from her brother except what tidbits her mother shared. Three years to start yearning for something, anything, to happen to break her from the prison of life in Hightown.

And at the end of those three years, change roared into her life again – this time on the heels of a summons from the Viscount.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act 2: Starting...now!

“Hey Varric, Anders. What’s going on today?” Marian had breezed into the Hanged Man like a woman on a mission.

“Hawke, what’s got you all worked up?” Varric’s eyes followed her progress around the table to Anders, watched as her hand slipped over the mage’s hair in what could only be viewed as a lover’s caress. To his amusement, Anders arched into the touch like a cat. The man practically purred at Marian’s hand. Marian caught him watching and narrowed her eyes at the dwarf before taking a seat. Varric just grinned.

“Oh…the Viscount. Of course. And his Seneschal. I swear to the Maker, Bran is the biggest tit since my brother. The man is incapable of being polite. The closest he gets is this sarcastic sneer. The last time my mother threw a fete the man showed up to oogle my breasts and sneer at the food. He said our ham didn’t taste enough like despair.” Marian waved her hand in the air at that, her eyes rolling. “But anyway, the Viscount. The Arishok sent him a letter asking specifically for me. And no, I don’t know what’s going on yet. I figured I’d check it out tomorrow and see.”

Anders had turned in his chair to watch Marian talk. Her story about Bran had his face scrunching up in a troubled frown. Varric watched the mage have what appeared to be an internal discussion before standing. “I should head back to the clinic. Will you be down later, Marian?”

Her eyes met his and she smiled, couldn’t help but beam up at the lanky mage. “Of course. Bodahn bought some of those sticky buns you like. I’ll bring you some.”

Anders waggled his eyebrows at her, “Any of those little tarts?”

She laughed, swatting at his leg, “I’ll bring you a basket of sweets. “ Her eyes followed Anders out of the tavern, snapping back to meet Varric’s with a slightly embarrassed smile. “He has a terrible sweet tooth.”

Varric simply grinned. “So you and Blondie?”

“Are what? Exchanging pastry recipes? Sharing strange healing stories? Plotting to paint the Chantry chartreuse?”

“I see…so you two are an item.”

“I…no. What? No…no. We are friends. _Friends!_ Why did I come in here? Oh! Right…to see if you would come with me tomorrow to visit the Arishock. But of course you will and I had better go. Bye Varric!”

He watched Marian leap up, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. A final evil frown thrown his way and she was rushing from the tavern. He shook his head.

***

Basket of sweets in hand, Marian slipped from the basement door and into Darktown. If she had to name one thing she liked over every other feature of the Hightown mansion, the Darktown door was it. It opened to the landing right in front of the clinic, handy for when she wanted to visit Anders. Which was…all the time. But that was beside the point.

The clinic doors were wide open and the lantern lit, but the clinic was mostly empty. With the blight over and the King re-opening the borders many of the refugees had packed up and returned to Ferelden. Marian thought about it on occasion, thought about simply leaving her mother in Kirkwall and returning to her home country. She couldn’t settle in Lothering but there were other places to live. The Bannorn was lovely and filled with small homesteading towns. Easy to get lost in, easy to blend. But she knew she wouldn’t leave Kirkwall, not unless a certain apostate decided to go with her.

Said apostate was currently perched on a stool, head in his hands. She paused a moment in the doorway to admire him, to get her fill of looking before she had to tuck away the want and only be a friend. It had been three years. Three years of wanting and waiting. Three years of getting her life in order so that she could move on, find a life for herself. But those three years had shown her that the only life she truly wanted was at this man’s side. Only the man seemed unable to take the next step forward. Seemed unwilling to move past friendship and into something more.

Those thoughts, though, were useless to have. She was just happy Anders was still in her life. So she cleared her throat and held up the basket when he raised his head. The slow smile made her innards twist and warm. Swallowing and flushing, she moved into the clinic.

“I brought you pastries. Bodahn sends his regards as does Sandal. Mother wanted to know if you were coming to dinner.”

Anders stood, moving to take the basket from Marian. He hummed in pleasure when he saw the sweet confections. “I don’t know. I have a…job tonight.”

Marian fidgeted. “A job or something for your mage underground?”

Anders’ sigh was exasperated. “You know I can’t answer that. I know you want to help, but you are just too well-connected now. Your donations go a long way, though. I can’t ask you to do more, not and rest easy.” He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and slid a finger over her cheek. “Always so willing to throw yourself into the path of danger. I won’t allow it.”

She stepped closer to him, into his personal space. Her eyes held his for a moment before slipping down to look at his lips. He inhaled sharply when she leaned forward, her head tilted up. For a moment they stood there, balanced between swaying into the kiss and retreating back into friendship. She saw something flash in his eyes, saw want well up and then that quick flash of blue. He exhaled, pressed his forehead against hers, seemed to waiver. She smiled sadly and moved back, patted his cheek. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

Anders watched her, his eyes not leaving her face. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Swallowing back her need, recognizing his internal struggle, she worked to move them past this awkward moment. “So…speaking of tomorrow. I have to see the Arishok and I thought you’d want to come? Because Fenris and Varric are coming with me but you never know, right? Could be painful…and…will you?”

Anders started at Fenris’ name. If she wanted to push him into a job, she knew telling him Fenris would be there would guarantee him into coming. She wasn’t disappointed when he nodded. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I’ll always be there for you, Marian.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiled into his eyes. “Well, I’ll let you…get ready for tonight…please Anders. Be careful.”

“Marian…” She stopped, turned to look at him. “I promise. To be careful. I wish…I…you mean the world to me.”

“You mean the world to me too, Anders” is what came out of her mouth, but her eyes clearly said “I love you too.”


	21. Chapter 21

The door to the clinic crashed open and admitted a stressed Anders, a blood-covered Fenris and Varric. Held clenched in Fenris’ arms was Marian. She was passed out cold, head lolling to the side, and blood trickling from her lips. Anders started frantically rummaging through a box, pulling out vials until he found what he was looking – a lyrium potion. He downed it quickly and then gestured at Fenris to put Marian on a cot. With a frantic look, Anders rushed to see if he could fix the damage.

***

They should have known that the meeting with the Arishok was more than a courtesy. It had been a well-laid trap. The trap hadn’t been for Marian, but that didn’t mean Marian wasn’t the one having to deal with the clean-up. No, the Arishok had been looking to ensnare the unfortunate soul looking to steal the Qunari gaatlok recipe. Instead of a powder that exploded the thief had gotten a powder that oozed insanity and violence. Even though a group went with her to deal with the thief, Marian had taken the brunt of the punishment.

Anders had tried. Maker knew he had tried to keep her healed up and out of the worst of the gas. But she wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t stay by his side. Instead, she had met the rampaging bandits head-on, her face a mask of anger. The cloud created by the Qunari powder had inflamed everybody’s lungs, the entire group had been coughing and gagging during the fight. In her rage, Marian had engaged the thief directly and had taken a direct hit. Helplessly, he had watched the sword ram into her chest. Marian had held off collapsing long enough to unleash electricity hell on the elf but had then crumpled into a bloody pile.

The alley had been too contaminated with the gas to heal in, and Anders had drained himself dry keeping her alive on the run to his clinic. Now, bolstered by a lyrium potion, he attacked her chest wound with a vengeance. In fact, Justice lent him strength to push through the worst of it, to focus in the face of his overwhelming fear. He stood over her, glowing with healing energy, and willed her to live.

And she did, slowly waking with a raspy cough and gurgle that had everybody relaxing. She drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes, found Anders, and smiled. “Am I still alive then?”

“No thanks to your blatant disregard for your life. What in the Maker’s name was that? Why would you confront that blighted elf directly?” Anders raged at her, stalking around the office and waving his hands violently. “You could have died. You almost _died!_ ”

Fenris and Varric watched Anders tear at his hair, watched him clench his hands and press his fists against his eyes. Marian simply lay on the cot, eyes following the rampaging mage. “I did what needed to be done, Anders. And you were there, I knew you’d save me.”

“What if I can't be there? What if I can't get to you fast enough or I run out of mana or I get injured? What then? Do I just watch you die? Chalk it up to a bad decision? How do you think I’d _FEEL?_ ” Anders screamed in anguish.

Fenris reached for Anders, his face tight with anger. “Do not yell at her, abomination. You have just brought her back from the brink.”

Anders rounded on the elf, his face splitting blue. “Do not tell me how to feel, how to act, while you stand in my clinic, elf. Where were you when she was being skewered by that insane woman? Where were you? Hmm? Not keeping her safe!”

Marian watched the two men spit at each other like two enraged cats. Well, maybe an enraged cat spitting at a riled mabari. Fenris was more mabari than cat. She shook her head, shaking out the silliness and slowly sitting up. “Alright. Stop. Stop it. I’m…sorry. Look, I’m sorry. I got mad and I got too close to her.” She slipped off the cot, wobbled, and was caught by Fenris.

Anders growled when she wrapped her arms around Fenris, pressed the elf close. She whispered into his ear, her arms gentling. Fenris grunted something and awkwardly patted at her back. Marian smiled at him, pressed her forehead against his. Anders ground his teeth when she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Alright. Fenris, I’m going to stay here for a while. Varric, are you ok? You were in that gas too.”

“Better knowing you’re alive, Hawke. Do you need me to stay? I don’t mind.” Varric flushed when Marian slowly knelt to hug him. “Hawke, you’ll make Bianca jealous. Stop that. Oh bother.” He gave her a rough hug back and then pushed her away with a wry smile. “You and your hugs. I swear. We’re the cuddliest bunch of bastards in Kirkwall.”

Marian chuckled and looked over to Anders, her eyes meeting his with a plea for help. He rushed to her, helped her up, pleased she had turned to him for help and not to Fenris. She gripped his arm and leaned back against his chest, let him hold her. “Varric, you and Fenris go get drunk or something. Anders will make sure I make it home safely. The cellar door is just outside. I think I can manage.”

“If you say so, Hawke. Don’t forget we have a letter from that Chantry Boy to deal with. Tomorrow?”

“Maybe the day after. I think a chest wound deserves a day of relaxation. Don’t you? Besides…I’m not exactly raring to head into the Chantry.”

“Fair enough, Hawke. Come on Broody, I’ll spot you for a drink.”

Marian watched Varric smack Fenris’ shoulder. She met Fenris’ eyes and nodded, smiled at his worry, and waved. Fenris just shook his head, never knowing what to do with himself when Marian met his worry with hugs and smiles. She chuckled when he groused at Varric about the shoulder touching, the two of them leaving her with Anders. She gasped when Anders picked her up and shuffled her to his cubby. “Hey! I’m not a damsel in distress! And I weigh a ton. Put me down!”

She stiffened when she felt his lips on her cheek, on the tender spot behind her ear. “Could have fooled me,” he whispered against her hair. “You did a spectacular job of swooning.”

Marian thought she might have another bout of swooning now. She was being subjected to teasing kisses on her cheek and ear, Anders nuzzling her neck. He hadn’t put her in bed so much as curled up around her, tucked her against his chest to cradle and hold. “Anders…” she patted at his hand.

“Mmm?” Anders’ control was slowly unraveling. She tasted amazing. He could spend all day just licking and kissing her neck. And her smell. It drove him crazy smelling her. She had been terribly hurt and he had been terrified for her. He didn’t think he could stand by much longer as just a friend. Didn’t think he could allow her to walk out of his life. No, he didn’t think he could last much longer without simply taking her. But not today. Not when he had brought her back from the brink.

He exhaled a soft breath against her neck, felt her shudder in response, and smiled against her skin. “Sorry. Still a little shaky. You gave me quite the scare, sweetheart.”

Marian swallowed and tried to not rub back against Anders. This was pure torture. Didn’t he realize what this was doing to her? She tried to focus on his words, tried to focus on anything but the feeling of his fingers rubbing her stomach through her bloody robes, the feeling of his lips and tongue on her neck, and worst of all, the feeling of his arousal pressed against her hip. She was pretty sure that now was not the time to ravish him. Something about freshly healed chest wounds and bloody robes.... _right brain? We don’t jump the healer when he’s just put us back together. Pull it together Marian. Pull it together._ “Ahh…sorry….I…yes. I’m sorry. And I’ll try to not do it again, right? Yes. And maybe…I…um. Oh!”

Anders rolled her over, pressed her into his bed and smiled down into her face. “Marian.”

“Yes?” His face was so close to hers. She watched as a lock of his hair slipped free of its bindings and fell over his eyes. She reached up, tucked the hair behind his ear, and indulged herself in a caress. Anders pressed his face against her hand, eyes closing in pleasure.

“Mm. Marian. This isn’t…the time for this but…I’m warning you now. You keep pushing at me and I…won’t. I won’t be able to stay away. Do you understand what I’m saying, sweetheart? Be sure before you continue to...inflame my emotions.” He pressed his hips against her once, a heated promise, and then moved off of her.

Marian could only lay there and wonder how much more pushing she had to do before he finally snapped and took her. Because, sweet Andraste, if she had to parade down here in her smalls to get that to happen she would. Anything to push them past this stalemate, anything to get him to realize that she wanted more than chaste friendship and heated looks.


	22. Chapter 22

Dinner at the Hawke residence had improved drastically with the relocation to Hightown. First, there was no Gamlen. That alone was reason to celebrate. Secondly, Bodahn could cook and helped out Leandra frequently. This allowed Marian's mother a break, which put Leandra in a better mood. Thirdly, they were able to afford more food, which meant she could invite Anders every night.

Leandra had met Anders finally and had declared him welcome and practically a member of the family. She had been horrified to see how skinny he was, how he didn't take care of himself. And of course, there was the whole apostate deal. So she bullied Marian frequently about dragging him to dinner, even going so far as to ask why they simply didn't just give him his own room.

Marian hadn't quite known what to say to that, but had liked the idea. She had been talking it over with Bodahn and figured one of the guest rooms could easily be turned into Anders' own space. Not that he'd use it, she thought. Though, remembering last night and what had happened in the clinic she, well, she wondered.

Anders had made it to dinner. She had lured him to the mansion with promises of roast chicken for dinner and pie for dessert. She had taken some pains with her appearance as well, choosing a simple dress that both complimented her eyes and her figure. Her mother had noticed and placed Anders across from Marian, a fact not lost on either of them. Dinner had been...an adventure. A mix of comfortable companionship and shy flirting. Thankfully, Mother had excused herself after dinner and left the two of them in the library.

“So...” Marian fidgeted with the belt on her dress as she sat on the settee. “Ah, I'm glad you made it to dinner?”

Anders' eyes crinkled, his lips curling into a half-smile as he watched her cheeks pink. “Wouldn't have missed it, Marian. Especially after last night. I'd be a poor healer if I didn't check up on my patients.” Lips curved into a full smile as he moved to her, sat down next to her.

“Ahh...I'm fine. Fine. Thank you. Was dinner ok?”

“Mmhmm,” He let his eyes drift down her face, enjoying her flustered speech and high color. Flustered Marian was one of his favorites, a part of her he didn't see as much as he used to. He blinked a bit when Justice prodded at him, reminding him that they had a question for her. He wanted to sigh in frustration. He wanted to flirt and play a bit, not talk about mages and jobs. But still, perhaps pushing Marian was a bad idea. He knew Justice thought that romance was, in general, frivolous.

“Are you ok?” Leaning forward, she peered into his eyes. He flexed his hands, holding still as she leaned in closer. “I thought your eyes flickered blue for a moment.”

“I'm fine,” His voice was a rough rasp. “Just being reminded of something.” He took another moment to argue with Justice, a smile blossoming as he won that round. His eyes gleamed and he reached for her and tugged her over and onto his lap, right where he wanted her to be. He couldn't help but chuckle when she squeaked. “I have a question for you, a request for some help.”

Marian wiggled, squeaking again when he settled her more firmly. “Oh?” Her voice was breathy and high.

“Yes, stop wiggling so much. I heard that there's a templar who is pushing the Chantry to make all mages Tranquil. He calls it his Tranquil Solution. Nasty piece of work, this Ser Alrik. I want, no need, to find proof of this plot.”

Marian stilled, her face going somber, “Make all mages Tranquil? That's...barbaric. Of course I'll help you. Do you want additional help or just the two of us?”

“You are always a surprise, Marian. A beautiful, wonderful surprise.” His arms tightened around her, lips brushing over hers in a whisper-soft kiss. “It's no wonder that, well, that I think so highly of you.”

“Ahhh...” was all Marian could think to say.

“Did I tell you that I like your dress? It's lovely. You're lovely.” Anders watched the flush deepen more, watched her eyes dilate with want and pleasure. It pleased him that he could affect her so, that just a few simple words could bring color to her cheeks and that shy happiness to her eyes. Anders had begun to notice that Marian’s life rarely reflected the joy she gave him. She was always bringing him such happiness and peace. He wondered if he could do the same to her.

“Thank you. I thought that, well...I thought that you might like it. Not that I chose it just for you because I really like this dress, but you know. You're a guest...and Mother says we dress for company and oh...”

He laid a finger over her lips, silencing her. Tilting his head, he watched her for a moment, let his fingertip trace her mouth. Another quick smile and he moved her to the settee, leaned forward to brush a kiss over her cheek. “When do you want to go with me? The sooner the better.”

“Tomorrow evening?”

“Don't you have the Chantry thing tomorrow?”

Marian's eyes sparkled. “Well, screw the Chantry. Let's go stop some templars instead.”

That had him laughing all the way back to his clinic.


	23. Chapter 23

The door to the clinic slammed behind Anders. Tearing at his hair, he fumbled with the locks, a sob bursting from his lips. His fist met the wall in frustration as the lock refused to catch. He gripped his now bleeding hand to his chest, a lost look on his face. Eyes blazed blue and purpose surged back through him. It had all gone wrong, but maybe he could move. He could start over. Mages were everywhere. Maybe...maybe someplace that didn't have so much stress, so much emotional overload. Or maybe...maybe it was time to face facts. This hadn't worked. A burst of healing energy and his hand was whole again. He rushed to his chest to start packing. If he hurried, he could leave before anybody found him.

His little chest had gotten fuller since he came to Kirkwall. Little trinkets given to him by children and his friends now filled in the spaces. There was a ribbon that had been worn by Marian that had been left in his clinic when she moved to Hightown, a signed copy of one of Varric's novels about a naughty templar and apostate, a little silver earring given to him by Isabela in the great hopes that the old Anders would come out and play, and a small tin of tea Merrill had made for him when she realized he had nightmares. He rifled through each item and tried to catalog what he could keep and what needed to be thrown away. It was hard, hard to think about leaving. But Maker, what he had almost done. The shock in Marian's eyes. The fear on that young girl's face. The fear on everybody's face – everybody but Marian. The stunned expression had given way to compassion and empathy. So much damn compassion and love – so much that Justice had been startled enough to be shoved into the back of Anders' mind before they could kill that little mage. He was a monster, an abomination; there was no denying it now.

Justice shifted in the back of his thoughts, a contrite spirit. Even Justice was horrified by what had happened. For a moment, Anders sat back on his heels and pressed his hands to his eyes. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave Marian. He didn't want to end up an unnamed corpse. But he couldn't think of anything he deserved more than to head back down to the Deep Roads and let the darkspawn take him. It would be early, too early for his Calling. Luckily, he remembered the way the expedition had gone. He could easily find his way back...bring a few trinkets to make the trip slightly bearable...

The very thought of heading back down to the Deep Roads made him break out in a sweat. Hands went clammy and he shook with fear. He was so lost in his thoughts, so lost in the mind-numbing terror that the Deep Roads caused, that he hadn't heard the door open. Hadn't realized there was another person in the room with him until the arms settled around him. He froze for a moment, all of the horror centering on the sudden appearance of another presence, and then her scent washed over him and he crumpled, sagged into the embrace of Marian and her complete acceptance of him. He clung to her for a moment, her presence dragging him from the pit of depression, from the ledge of death. Then he pushed her away, his eyes wild. “No, Marian. No. You shouldn't be here. I have to...I have to go. Maker, you saw what I did. Saw what I've become. I'm not safe...I'm not...I have to go...”

Marian sat back on her heels, her eyes searching his, “Go where, Anders?”

“I don't deserve this. Happiness, love, friendship...I'm an abomination, Marian. Maybe I was before Justice joined with me. Maybe that's why....that's why we are like this. You should be with somebody who can give you a happy life. I'm just going to bring you pain. Please....you need to leave. Let me go to where I deserve to be.”

Marian's eyebrow had climbed up her face at his fevered speech. Her hand was gentle when she cupped his cheek. He tried to resist, to pull away, but she slid her fingers into his hair and turned his face to hers. “Go where, Anders?”

“The Deep Roads...” his voice was an agonized whisper. He tried to pull away again but she wouldn't let him. For a moment they wrestled. He could have pushed her away, could have hurt her to get her to leave, but he didn't. He found himself craddled against her chest, her face buried in his hair. He half-lay against her and felt her sobbing, her shaking, as his words registered.

“Oh Anders...” her broken voice cut through him. “I'm not...I would never let you do that. You aren't an abomination. You just lost control. It was...unfortunate. But I don't blame you. Those templars...they were...I had a hard time coming down from my anger too.”

“I don't deserve to live, Marian.”

“You deserve to be happy, Anders.”

“But I'm a danger! How can I help mages when I'm the very thing people fear?”

She pulled away at that, turned him so they were face to face. “Learn to control it, learn to work with Justice instead of fighting him. Be the man, the mage, I know you can be....know you are. A good man. A gentle man. A man with a big heart, the ability to heal, and the desire to help.”

“You see me and want me to be your Papa. I can't be that man, Marian. I'm not that man.”

Marian's eyes closed in grief. For a moment, she doubted herself, her feelings for this broken, lost soul who touched her so. Was she trying to turn him into her Papa? She didn't think so. Papa had been many things to her, had been a touchstone as she grew, but Anders...he wasn't some replacement father figure. He was more than just a touchstone to keep her grounded. He was her best friend and the man she had irrevocably fallen in love with.

“You're wrong, Anders. Wrong about your worth, wrong about how I see you. I don't expect you to believe me right now. How can you? How long have people told you that you were nothing? Worth nothing because of being a mage?” Anders blinked at the rough anger in Marian's voice. “How dare they judge you? Leave you to sit in a cell alone simply for wanting what any person would want. What every mage should want, every mage that hasn't been brain washed by the Circle into thinking that they should be locked away. How dare they make you feel like less than nothing for wishing to be loved and happy?” She clutched at him, clung to him desperately. “Don't turn me away, Anders. Please. Don't cut me off because you’re afraid. If you need help, I'm here. I'm always here.”

Anders was shaken, stunned by Marian's outburst. He hadn't expected it, hadn't expected her to care so deeply. But maybe he should have. Three years of dancing around each other, watching each other, perhaps...he should have expected this. His hands gentled, rubbed over her arms. “Did you...did you find anything about the Tranquil Solution? Or was that just a delusion on my part?”

Sniffling a little, Marian pulled away to rummage in a pouch, murmuring to herself as she pulled out a small piece of paper. “Here, I think you'll be interested in this.”

Anders took it, unfolded the paper, saw it was a letter to Ser Alrik from the Chantry. His eyes skimmed down the words, growing wide with incomprehension. “The Divine...she...rejected the idea. Meredith rejected the idea. I...maybe the Grand Cleric is more reasonable than I had hoped for...” He turned disbelieving eyes to Marian. “I should talk to her. See if there is a way we can end this...or at least make things better for the mages...”

“You should. After you've come back to the mansion with me.”

“I....”

“Will not argue. Come with me. Have some food, some comfort, sit with me for a while. Please Anders? Let me do this for you, please?”

He nodded, standing and offering her a hand up. She had come to him in his darkest moment, had held him through his fears and doubts, had fought with him to keep him from rushing off to his death...if she wanted to fuss over him then he would allow it. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her. “My miracle, my own miracle right here. You came in here and pulled me away from a ledge that would have led me to death. Thank you Marian.”

Her smile was blazing bright, joy and happiness in her face. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and beamed at him. His heart swelled with love for this woman, for her courage and her compassion. He let her lead him up to the mansion. He even stayed the night, slept the entire night cocooned in a warm bed, full and safe and feeling loved.


	24. Chapter 24

The last thing Marian wanted to do was go into the Chantry. Not after last night. Not after finding the templars about to torture or...do worse things...to a mage who had just wanted to see her mother. Marian's anger flared at the thought of Ser Alrik standing over that young girl, his eyes gleaming at the thought of having her at his mercy. Marian had never been more fully convinced that the Circle was nothing more than a cage and the templars little more than torturers than at that moment. When Anders had lost his control, when Justice had blazed forth, Marian had been happy to move out of their way and let them decimate the templars. She couldn't blame Anders or Justice for not being able to bring themselves back under control. She had been subsumed by blood rage as much as they had.

Still, finding Anders about to leave, about to flee Kirkwall to go to his death had been...she couldn't even describe the pain that had lanced through her heart. She had lain awake most of the night, fearful he would leave the house. When he walked out of the guest bedroom looking rested she had finally relaxed. And he was down in his clinic now, had promised to stay there and heal today until she could come get him for dinner. He had pressed a warm kiss to her cheek and pulled her into a tight hug before he left. Something in him had changed, but she still worried.

And the last thing she wanted was to go to the Chantry to help a former Chantry Brother. Unfortunately, Varric had come by at breakfast with the letter. She never should have enlisted his aid in helping her keep her schedule. The man was a task master, make no doubt about it. Varric knew she was leery of all things Chantry – which was why she had tasked him to make sure she went. Not that she had anything against Sebastian Vael. It was simply...well, she didn't want to be in the Chantry.

***

Several hours later and Marian's view of Chantry jobs had not brightened one bit. Sebastian had wanted help confronting a local noble family about his family's deaths. Marian had had visions of an awkward tea with thinly veiled threats. Sadly, that's not what she had gotten. What she had gotten was a house full of spirits, a possessed family, and a desire demon in the basement. Marian was beginning to think the entire city of Kirkwall had been built on demon-filed ruins. She didn't think Ferelden had had this many abominations, demon sightings and blood mages. Either Kirkwall was built on demon-infested ruins or Ferelden was, indeed, behind the times.

She had followed Sebastian back to the Chantry, had patted his shoulder as he fretted over the entire afternoon, and had finally given in and hugged him. That man could hug, she had to give him that. Unlike most of her companions, Sebastian had sunk into the hug and returned it complete with forehead kiss. Marian had been deeply grateful that Anders was down in his clinic. She was almost positive there would have been a scene. She had left as fast as was gracious, but not before Sebastian had pledged himself to her service.

***

She was still puzzling over how to integrate Sebastian into her circle of friends when she reached the clinic. It was late afternoon, the sun low in the sky. She found Anders kneeling at one of the doors with a saucer of milk. It was so adorable she had to stop and watch him place the dish in a corner, becoming even more amused when he started making soft cooing noises at a bunch of crates. She knew he was a cat person and that he barely tolerated Dodger on the best days, but she had never really seen him wooing the local feline population. She watched as a little furry faced peeked out from behind the crates and then hid again, causing Anders' cooing noises to gentle and soften. She couldn't help it, she chuckled.

“Oh! Marian!” His smile was shy, a blush forming on his cheeks. “I was just...laying out some milk for the cats. Most of them have disappeared...or perhaps were eaten.” He frowned at that last bit.

Marian chuckled again, “Well, I hope not. The rats down here would be better game. They are huge. Your little furry friend over there seemed rather scrawny in comparison. I could send Bodahn down with some scraps...”

Anders stood, one last look at the crates, and went to her. “Aw, that would be sweet. Thank you, love.” He took her hands and drew her into the clinic. “I have to thank you. For last night, for everything. You are the example mages should look to. Self sufficient, kind, in control...you bring me and everybody in the mage underground hope.”

Marian flushed a bit. “Oh well...I...you know I wish I could do more. To help you. I do this for you, Anders. Not that the mage underground isn't important, it is. But I would never have even known about it except for you. And I fear for you constantly. Fear that you will be found and taken. I help because of you.” Her hands flexed in his, her eyes searching his face. Could he not see that everything she did for the clinic and for the mages was out of love for him?

“Marian,” he moved away from her. “I've tried. The Maker above knows I've tried to shield you from this. From me. I am not a safe man. You've seen that. If it wasn't for you, I would have killed an innocent girl. And yet you keep offering me more. I can't...sweetheart. I can't control myself when you keep ignoring my warnings.”

“Anders...I'm not sure how much more blunt I need to be. I don't want you to control yourself. I...”

Marian didn't get to finish her thought. She was pulled roughly against Anders' chest, her head tipped back and her mouth covered in a wild, passionate kiss. Her brain sizzled and fried, thoughts jumbling together at the feel of his tongue stroking into her mouth to tangle with hers. There was no finesse, no gentle easing into the firestorm of want and need and desire. She clung to him and moaned into him, rubbed herself against his body, and forgot for a moment that they were in the clinic,that the doors were open, and the lantern was lit. All that mattered was his mouth, his hands, his taste and smell.

It didn't last long enough, not nearly, not to satisfy three years of cravings. When his lips left hers, when he pressed his forehead to hers and panted against her cheek, she hoped to the heavens that he wasn't going to change his mind. Because open doors and lit lanterns be damned, she would tear his silly coat off of him and take him now. But he didn't push her away. He held her to him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to her cheeks and neck.

“Marian...I've tried. I can't stop thinking about you, can't stop wanting you. If you'll have me, I'll come to you tonight once I've closed up. Think carefully, sweetheart, about continuing this with me. I can't give you a safe life. Leave the basement door open tonight. If it's locked, I'll understand. I'll know you've finally come to your senses.”

He let his hands drift down her body before gently moving her away. She looked into his eyes, saw the banked fires burning in them, and swallowed. Nodded to him. Turned to leave. She had a lot to do between and now and tonight. Three years of waiting and it was all about to come to an end.


	25. Chapter 25

The door had been left open and Anders had given a brief prayer of thanks to the Maker at that. He hadn't doubted Marian's desire, had felt her body rubbing against his as he took her mouth and knew she wanted him. But self-doubts always lingered and he wasn't one-hundred percent sure why somebody as amazing as Marian Hawke would wish for somebody as damaged as he was. Still, the door had been left unlocked and Anders took that as a good sign.

He locked it behind him and quietly made his way through the mansion to Marian's room. Standing just outside her bedroom door, he tried to calm his racing heart and his libido. He was pretty sure Marian was not a virgin. Was pretty sure she was expecting passion and would want him to spend the night with her. The only thing that worried him was himself. He didn't want to pounce on her, didn’t want to scare her with his needs and desires. He felt a moment of amusement at his line of thinking. The last time he had stood outside of a woman's doorway it had been with Eavan. He distinctly remembered having this same conversation with himself. _Patience, Anders. No woman likes to be pawed at._ He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Anders...you're here. Finally. I was...worried.” Marian stood near the fire, her eyes filled with joy at seeing him. For a moment, Anders saw Eavan pacing the room in her diaphanous nightgown. Then his vision cleared and he saw Marian in a short robe, hair mussed and face flushed with heat and nerves. It gave him the courage to move into the room. “I had to close up and I wanted to clean up a bit. It got a little busy after you left.” She moved to him and his mouth went dry at the sight she made: the fire glowing behind her and illuminating her figure through the thin fabric of the robe. “Marian...” his voice grew husky. “You should know that Justice isn't happy with my obsession with you. He thinks it's frivolous.”

She laughed at that, giggled at his expression. “He's such a fuddy duddy sometimes. Well, he'll just have to get over it, I suppose, since you're here.” She stopped right in front of him, smiled into his eyes. “I hope he doesn't expect this to be a chaste visit.”

His hand gentled over her cheek, rubbed over her neck. “Marian...” he breathed her name, pulled her to him so he could explore her mouth, taste her, rub her tongue with his. Her moans were beautiful, her breathy sighs and little murmurs addicting sounds that prodded at him. He ached for her, already hard with need. He let her draw him back to the bed, laid himself over her, slid his hands into her hair to hold her steady as he feasted on her mouth. Her hands worked at his coat, fought with the buckles and then pushed the entire thing off of him.

Chuckling, he drew back, tapped her nose and gave her a teasing smile. “In a hurry are we?”

“I want you.” Her gaze was bright, direct, heated. “I've wanted you for so long.”

His answering smile was slow, languid. Standing, he worked at the ties to his shirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it to the side. Watched her eyes travel down his chest. He worried for a moment when her eyes found the scars, would she find them distasteful? But she stood, went to him to touch each one, to press kisses over each ridge of skin till he pushed her back to the bed. “Not yet. You'll make me spend myself if you keep touching me like that.”

Her eyes immediately slid down his body to the noticeable bulge in his pants. Groaning, chanting a litany of herbal remedies in his mind to distract him, he slowly pulled the laces of his pants free, hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and slid them down his legs. Standing in just his smalls, he let his arms settle at his side, let her look her fill. She reached for him, trailed fingertips down his belly and over the thick hardness that pressed tightly against the front of his smalls. Biting his lip, he moved into her touch and closed his eyes. Fingertips teased along the leg openings and over top the waistband, before tugging the smalls down. He could only moan when he felt her lips just below his navel, when she kissed a line down the hard length of his cock. He gripped the bedposts in an effort to stay standing, clenched his teeth as she dragged her tongue down his length and then back up, swirled it over the head.

“I want you, Anders.” She breathed it against his hip, pressed her forehead to his stomach. “Take me?”

Words lost meaning after that. He pushed her back, ripped the robe from her body, and exhaled in awe at the sight of her. His tongue laved down her neck, over her collarbone, over the pink tips of her breasts. Hands gripped her hips, spread her thighs so that he could look at her curls, could slide his tongue into them and between those hidden lips to taste her arousal, to tease at the tiny bundle of nerves till she was open and flushed. Then he plunged his tongue into her, held her still as he tasted her fully, as he drew circles over the pouting petals of her clit. He drew it into his mouth to bite and suckle, tasting her till she was begging him, calling his name. He didn't stop the torture, the long rasping draw of his tongue over her wetness, till she was shaking and keening and her orgasm had her writhing under his lips. Only then did he drag himself up her body to kiss her, to share her taste with her.

She surprised him then. Her hands shoved him over and she straddled him to press kisses over his face and neck, to suck and bite at the junction of neck and shoulder. She marked him, her smile pleased when she saw the bites. Her hips ground over his stomach, her wetness slick and hot, and his hands could only clench at the sheets as he grew harder. A teasing smile was the only warning he got before she lifted herself, slid herself over and down his length, seated herself fully on his cock. The sudden warmth and tightness had him shouting her name, his hands gripping her thighs. Her laugh curled around him and she braced herself on his chest and moved.

For a few moments he could only lay there and watch her rock over him, watch her breasts bounce and her nipples tighten. Then he was thrusting into her, was cupping her breast to fondle and squeeze. His fingers pinched her nipples, tugging on them and causing little bursts of pain amidst the pleasure. She ground herself against him faster, her back arching as heat spiraled higher. He released one nipple, slid his hand down her stomach to tease at her swollen clit with light brushes. She stiffened, her body clenching him, and she moaned his name as she shattered.

He caught her, sat up and pulled her into a deep, bruising kiss. Slid his hands into her hair as her body trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure and she mewled into his mouth. He whispered to her to wrap her arms around him and she did, still caught in the web of pleasure and passion. He wrapped his hands around her hips in a bruising grip, caught her gaze, and then he moved her over him. He lost himself in her as his eyes held hers. It didn't take much, not after feeling her orgasm, just a few deep thrusts and he was filling her with himself, pressing his face into her neck as he whispered her name. Her arms held him as he came, as he emptied himself in her, as he whispered _I love you_ against her neck over and over again.

***

They lay entwined on the bed, sticky and sweaty from their passion. Anders' could only marvel at how completely she had given herself to him. She was limp against him, practically purring with her contentment. It made him smile, it made him want to laugh and giggle, made him want to wrap her up and never let her go. He watched her roll over and prop herself up on his chest. “Well...that was...worth three years of waiting.”

“Hah! Yes it was, love. Though I don't think I'm quite done with you.” He let his hand slide down her back, tease over her hips. He waggled his eyebrows when he dragged a finger up between the cheeks of her ass. She gasped and rocked against him. “I have plans for you, Marian. I don't think you'll be getting much sleep tonight.”

Her eyes grew large, her cheeks pinking. He watched as the flush covered her neck. Grinning, he rolled her over, let his eyes wander down her body, laughed when he realized the blush did start at her toes. “Maker, Marian. That blush of yours. It even makes your nipples flush.” He bent his head to kiss at one, chuckling when she smacked at him. “I love you. Do you know that? I have since the day you wandered into my clinic and lost your mind at my feathers. I've spent the last three years desperate to have you, fearful you would leave, hoping you would stay but knowing you should find somebody else. But I can't...I love you. I do.”

“Oh you silly, silly man. I love you too! Probably since I first saw you healing that boy. And I don't want to be safe with somebody else. I want you. Always. Here with me. Stay with me? Please? Don't leave me in the morning...” She looked away, suddenly nervous.

“Do you mean it?” Anders sat up, gazed down at her with shock and hope. “Stay here? With you? You would do that? Have me move in? Live with me openly?”

“Of course I would. I've been trying to think of a way to get you to live here for months now. I don't want you down the hall in a separate bedroom. I want you here next to me every night. Please Anders. I love you.”

“I...Marian. Of course. Of course I'll stay here. I...come here you.” He growled and tugged her into a tight embrace. “For as long as you'll have me, I'll be here.” His lips met hers and for a while there was nothing but sighs and moans. No fears, no doubts, nothing but love and passion.


	26. Chapter 26

Sunlight filtered through the curtains of the bedroom, a single ray landing on Anders' face. His nose scrunched in irritation. He was warm, comfortable, relaxed. He could feel Marian next to him, her naked body pressed tightly against his. Despite the large bed, she still slept wrapped around him with her face nuzzled against his chest, a habit developed from sleeping in his clinic. He didn't mind, her smell soothed him. When he felt her next to him, his mind eased. Justice quieted. He felt safe.

She stirred, all soft skin and quiet sighs. His fingers slid through her hair, brushed over her face, traced her lips. She turned into the touch, her eyes fluttering open. Rolling over, he propping himself up on one arm and smiled down at her, “Morning beautiful.”

“Mmm... is it morning? I'm so tired.” She pouted.

His chuckle shook her and she grumbled. “I'm sorry, love. Sorry. I kept you up last night with my...mm...antics. You're just too tempting.” His hand slid down her side and back up to slip between her thighs. He grinned when she squirmed. “And so responsive. I should have guessed, what with the blushing.”

She bit at his nipple and then immediately lapped at it. His laugh turned breathy. He skimmed his hand over her and her legs fell open. He teased over her curls, traced a pattern just above her mound. “Anders...” her voice was shaky.

“Too sensitive?”

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his. “You are insatiable.” She bit back a moan when his finger dipped into her. “Insatiable.”

He rolled over, tugged her over him, and rubbed his hard length against her. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you are very tempting and I'm weak in the face of you.” He watched her as he slid her back and slowly eased her down on him. Her eyes widened and then closed, her head falling to nestle against his neck. His hands smoothed down her back to settle at her hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles over her skin. He whispered her name when she rotated her hips over him.

He gathered her closer, rolled them so he was on top, propped himself up on his arms. Her fingers teased over his ears and tugged on his hair, pulling him down and into a deep kiss. They moved together, bodies arching and melding, dancing to the music of their gasps and sighs. He bit her neck, adding to the marks he had left on her the night before, and claimed her again. It pleased him that people would know she was taken, know that she was his. His eyes took her in as she writhed under him. Sliding his hand between their bodies, he found the little bundle of nerves that sat just above where they were joined and delicately stroked. Her orgasm took her suddenly, her eyes flying open in surprise as she shivered and quaked. He held on till she had finished, till she was limp, and then he joined her pleasure, his body shuddering against hers.

Pleasingly tired, he cuddled her against him. This was how he wanted to wake up every morning, a naked and sleepy Marian by his side, her body satiated with his, her mouth curved up into that satisfied little smile. He couldn't help but nuzzle her neck and press kisses to her chin. “I love you, Marian. You know that, right?”

“Mmm...I think I've figured that out. I love you too, Anders.” She grinned at him, poked him in the chest. “And today we're moving your stuff in. Where should we put your little chest?”

“Hmm...someplace Dodger won't eat it.”

“So...in another house?” She giggled as he tickled her. “Stop! Maker! Ok! How about on top of the chest of drawers over there?”

His laugh was free and relaxed. “No dogs in my things. Or in our bed. I don't share beds with mangy mutts.”

“He's not mangy! He's a pure-bred mabari! Where's your sense of national pride?”

“Hmph. I'm a cat person, love.”

“Well,” she drawled as she tapped his nose, “I suppose we could get one of those too.”

***

The plan had been to hit up the clinic for Anders things, lug them up through the basement, and then spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around together. Marian had cleared her calendar, so to speak, and Anders had declared, for once, that he was worthless for healing. Sadly, the plan fell apart the minute they exited the basement door. Standing at the closed doors to the clinic and knocking repetitively was Isabela. She took one look at Marian and Anders holding hands and had waggled her eyebrows. It had been the most horrifying thing Marian had ever experienced.

“Isabela. What can I help you with?” Anders sigh was heartfelt.

“We can talk about that in a minute, handsome. What is going on with you two? Are those? Come here Hawke!” Isabela reached for Marian, tugged the neck of her robe down and poked at her neck. “Love bites? And you’re…holding hands? Oh Sweet Thing, you are holding out.”

Marian flailed her arms at Isabela, “Izzy! Let go of me. This isn’t…stop…hey!” She swatted at Isabela who simply ignored her in favor of tugging away more of Marian’s robes.

Anders stepped in and gently disengaged the two women, pushing Marian into the clinic with a firm hand and grabbing Isabela by the shoulder. “Ok. Inside. Maker Isabela. Look what you did to Marian. She’s all rumpled.” Marian was fighting with her robe, grumbling about handsy pirates and men who had to leave marks. Anders’ smug smile made her flush deep red and move further into the clinic. “Why are you here, Isabela?”

“I have this rash…thing…I need you to do your healing hand waving and fix it. And then tell me all about what you and our fearless leader have been up to.”

“Andraste’s flaming drawers, Isabela. I don’t kiss and tell. And I keep telling you that magic isn’t necessary for every itch. Use this salve and quit picking up men at the docks.”

Isabela humphed. “Fine, whatever. Thanks for the salve. I gotta run. Varric was wondering why Hawke wasn’t around today. He’ll be interested in knowing why.” She gave a laugh and ran from the clinic.

Anders and Marian shared a look. “So much for our plans for a quiet afternoon.”

“Maybe we could…hide? Ignore them? Move?”

Anders grinned. “Come here. I’ll heal your neck and we’ll move my things.” He feathered a finger down her neck, his face going serious. “They’re going to tease us terribly. Are you…ok with that? I don’t want…I mean. I know last night you said…If you’ve changed your mind…”

Marian wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him. “I just don’t like being put on the spot. And Izzy can be a gossip and Varric will want to make a big deal. This has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I am not ashamed of you and I was serious last night. I want you to move in with me. I want you with me. And I’m not going to let some snooping pirate and loud-mouthed dwarf change my mind.”

He clung to her for a moment. “You don’t know…I never thought anybody would want that. I know you said it last night. But it’s so hard for me to believe that this isn’t a temporary thing. That you aren’t going to leave when somebody better comes around. “

“Oh Anders,” Marian’s lips were soft against his. “Maybe in time you’ll be able to fully accept it. But for now, I’d just be happy with you grabbing that chest of yours and lugging it up into the mansion. It’s heavy!”

And just like that, it became a simple thing to move his chest, to unpack his clothing and hang them next to hers, to put his staff next to hers, to store his memories near their bed. Their bed in their room in their home. _Home._ Anders couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around her gift to him. He spent the afternoon lounging on their bed, laughing at Marian and Dodger, and felt for the first time in his life that he had found the place he belonged.


	27. Chapter 27

Marian’s hand wrapped around Anders’ and clung. “I don’t want to go in,” she whispered to him.

They stood across from the Hanged Man, both of them staring at the door like it was the entrance to a demon-filled cave. Marian would have much rather faced an entire ruin filled with blood mages and spirits than go in. She would rather beat up on templars than face her friends. Oh, she loved each and every one of them. She really did. But they were terrible gossips. And Isabela had gotten to them first.

Anders squeezed her hand and gave her a wry smile. “I suppose we should go face the music. The sooner they get it out of their system the better. Buck up there, sweetheart. You’ve faced worse things.”

“Not likely,” she muttered under her breath as she dragged Anders into the tavern.

It was full tonight and loud and boisterous. Marian heaved a grateful sigh that the group wasn’t down in the main room. That meant they were up in Varric’s suite. That was both better and worse. Better because the general population would miss out on the entire drama. Worse because Marian’s group felt free to let down their hair, proverbially speaking, when in Varric’s suite. Anders gave her hand another squeeze and she squared her shoulders. Time to get this over with so they could just move on to more important matters.

***

“So there we were, surrounded by these little dragon things and Hawke she…oh…speak of the hero. Hey Hawke, Anders.” Varric’s voice was loud in the sudden silence. Six sets of eyes swung to the couple standing in the doorway. Marian’s face flamed red instantly. She almost turned and fled, almost started backing away from the group so intent on them, but Anders’ squeezed her hand. His eyes were understanding, if a bit sad, and that made her spine stiffen. There was no way she was going to confirm his worst fears, that she was ashamed of him. She could do this. She had stared down Hightown nobility. Had faced the Deep Roads. Had killed a big ass dragon. She could handle six nosy friends.

“Varric! Everyone. What’s going on tonight?” She returned Anders’ squeeze and tugged him into the room. Ignoring the eyes on their joined hands she found an open seat and plopped down in it. She glanced over at Merrill and smiled. “Can Anders have your seat, Merrill?”

The little elf lit up with a large smile and hoped off her chair. “Course he can, Hawke!” she chirped. “Anders you sit here. With Hawke. I’ll go sit next to Isabela.” Merrill patted her seat and beamed at Anders. “You two are so cute together.”

Marian covered her face with her hand and tried to not laugh. It was vintage Merrill – innocent and yet not. She cleared her throat and grinned at Anders. “We’re cute together,” she deadpanned.

Anders’ lips twitched. He watched her watching him and relaxed. She was going to accept him in front of the group, not hide. Something in him eased, unwound and warmed. It allowed him to reach for her and smooth her hair back. “Well, you’re pretty cute. So I agree with part of that statement.”

Marian forgot the group for a moment and nuzzled into the touch. It was still so new, being able to touch and enjoy without fear of him pushing her away or her responsibilities looming over her. Her friends could hang, she had waited three agonizing years for the chance to have Anders and she wasn’t going to let them ruin it. “Mm…well. The question remains. What’s going on tonight?” She turned her eyes to the gaping group.

“Other than watching you and Blondie? Nothing?” Varric grinned. “I did pick up some of your correspondence today, Hawke. You were…unavailable…at noon.” He winked at her and chuckled at her flush. “Don’t worry. I have a very active imagination. The next book about you will be…rather steamy. Two apostates on the run and in love….hey!” He dodged the mug tossed at him. “That could have been full!”

“Not likely at this table. Did I have anything of interest?”

“Bran wants to see you.” His grin widened at Marian’s groan. “And I caught Aveline leaving you a note.”

“I need your help, Hawke.” Aveline leaned forward. “For something you helped me on a while ago with that templar Emeric. Remember him?”

“Fine, fine. Talk to me about it later. Anything else before I start drinking? Maker, you’d think this kind of stuff would slow down.”

Fenris cleared his throat. “Ahh…I heard rumors of some slavers off the Wounded Coast.”

Marian nodded at Fenris. “Well, then we’ll have to investigate that. Perhaps light a fire under them to leave.” Fenris relaxed at her words. “I’m always up for playing Light the Slaver on Fire, Fenris. My grousing wasn’t directed at you.”

Fenris’ eyes met hers and then flicked to Anders. She tilted her head and nodded at him, watched him fight with himself. “Anders, I’ll go get us some drinks. Fenris, can you help?” She patted Anders’ hand and shook her head at his questioning glance. “I’ll only be gone a few moments. Don’t electrocute anybody.”

***

“What’s bothering you, Fenris?” Marian grabbed at his arm when they reached the hall and dragged him into an empty room.

“I…it’s not my place, Hawke.” He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t remove her hand.

“Fenris, we’re friends. I value your opinion – even when it’s a rant against magic. You know that. Please. What’s bothering you.”

He took her hand in a rare show of affection. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. And the abomination…Anders…” he struggled with the name, struggled to not lose his temper. “Is it wise to…be with him?”

Marian looked down at her hand and then back to Fenris, saw the worry swirling in his eyes. “Oh Fenris. I suppose this talk was bound to happen, huh. You two really don’t like each other. I know he’s probably not the safest man I could get involved with…” she grinned at his muttering, “but he is a good man. I suppose if we had fallen in love people would ask me the same question.”

His eyes flew to her face. “I didn’t mean…that…you know I value you…I…”

“Relax. You’re a good man too, Fenris. Hard to get through to sometimes, but a good man. You’re like family to me. You all are. So I appreciate you being worried for me. It doesn’t make me mad. It…makes me feel loved.”

Fenris blushed when she pulled him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Marian…” she blinked, leaned back to look into his eyes, “I’ve never…I have no memory of family or friends. You’ve given me more in the last three years than I’ve had my whole life. I just don’t want to see you hurt. If he hurts you I…I don’t think I could stop myself. I don’t know that I know what love is. But I know that I care for you.”

It was, quite possibly, the longest speech Marian had had from Fenris that didn’t involve slavery or mages. It rendered her speechless. She stood there, arms wrapped around the fidgeting man, and felt the tears slip down her cheeks. “Oh…that’s. Oh Fenris.” She laughed and cried into his neck for a moment before pulling away to wipe at her face. “Well then…I guess we should get some drinks.”

Fenris shifted a moment, rocked on his heels, and then reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I could use a drink.” She laughed and followed him down to the bar.

***

She splurged on some not-quite-so-terrible wine. Returning with drinks and Fenris, she found Anders being peppered with questions. Some of them were friendly, innocent and along the lines of if he was moving in with her and was he happy. And of course, how was Justice handling the change. Then there was Isabela. Marian walked in right as the wench asked how the threesome with Justice worked and did Marian mind sharing her bed with two men. Marian had tripped and been caught by Fenris.  
“Isabela!” she wailed. “That’s just not right. Apologize. You know…fade spirits…he…oh you impossible woman.” Marian carefully arranged the bottles on the table, frowning at the laughing woman. “Impossible. You’d think you would have enough excitement in your life without adding some to mine.”

“Sweet Thing, I’d be happier if that delicious elf next to you would spend more than five seconds in my company.”

Marian shot Fenris a look, eyebrow arched. Fenris swayed on his feet, a blush curling up his cheeks. She chuckled at his harrumph of discomfort. “Is that the way the wind is blowing, Izzy? I didn’t know you had it in you. Course,” and Marian swung disturbingly hard eyes at the pirate, “You hurt him and I’ll be forced to retaliate.” Isabela held up her hands, her smile wide. Fenris gawked at Marian. She simply shook her head and patted Fenris’ cheek, tossed Isabela another warning look, and went to take her seat.

“I bought up a bunch of decent wine for everybody oof…” She let out a woosh of air as Anders tugged her down onto his lap. “Anders…what the…”

“I’ve answered enough questions for a lifetime. Are we happy? Is Justice happy? Do we plan to get married, which was my personal favorite. And of course, I’ve been threatened to not hurt you. I’m due a cuddle. Come here.” She chuckled and relaxed against him, happy that he was feeling comfortable. She turned a beaming face to her friends, contentment welling up. She had been scared to show up but everybody was settling down with the changes.

They stayed late playing cards and laughing. Merrill got tipsy and ended up teasing Sebastian. Fenris allowed Isabela to flirt with him. Varric told stories and prodded at Aveline. And Marian sat curled up on Anders’ lap, a pleased smile on her face. This, she thought, this was family. This was what she had been wanting her whole life.


	28. Chapter 28

Anders was hungry. This was a common problem for Wardens in general and him in particular. The past several years had been more famine than feast, even when Marian brought down baskets of food. He would eat half the food and then give the rest away. It was just how he was hardwired, or maybe it was because Justice had a hard time letting him sit still long enough to really get full.

Fortunately, there was no reason for Anders to be hungry now. He was living with Marian, had been in the house for a whole two nights now. This was his new home. And the new home came with a stocked kitchen – one that he had been told was open to his rummaging. So when the sun had started to peek through the curtains and woke Anders up he didn’t think twice about going downstairs to see about a snack.

He had, however, forgotten that Marian had a mother and that her mother might be an early riser. He had met Leandra several times. The woman was always inviting him over for dinner or tea or lunch, always fussing over the state of his clothing and how skinny he was. But he hadn’t seen Leandra since he and Marian had became lovers.

And didn’t that word just reverberate in his brain. Lovers. He and Marian were…lovers.

He was still puzzling over how he had gone from being an impoverished healer in Darktown to Marian Hawke’s lover when he walked into the kitchen and found himself in Leandra Hawke’s sights. It was terrifying. One, he was not wearing a shirt or smalls…or shoes. He had pulled on his pants, loosely laced them, and slipped out in the hopes of finding a few tarts to eat before slipping back to bed. Two, he had expected the kitchen to be empty. Three, she was looking at him with knowing eyes.

Anders really wanted to flee in terror, but her eyes pinned him to the spot. Feeling very much like a bug, he froze and offered her a smile. “Ahhh…”

“Anders, good morning.” Leandra’s eyes took in his shirtless and shoeless state, eyebrow rising. Her gaze drifted down his body, stopped briefly on his bare toes, and then skimmed back up to his eyes. She raised a cup of tea to her mouth, took a dainty sip, and returned the cup to the saucer on the table. “Young man, you are entirely too skinny.”

Anders didn’t know what to say to that. Out of all the things that could have come from her mouth, that was not what he had expected. “I’m…sorry?”

“Sit. I’ll fix you some breakfast.” She stood, patted a chair at the table, and smiled.

“No…you don’t have to…I can find something…don’t feel obligated…” Anders fumbled for a moment, not sure what to do. He shut up when she approached him, her eyes meeting his with some amusement.

“Oh sit down and stop fidgeting. You’re worse than Marian is.” She reached up a hand to press him into a chair, stopping when her fingers found the scars. Her eyes narrowed and she gripped his shoulder tightly, turned him so she could view his back. Her face, when she swung him back around, was dark. “Where did you get those? Who is responsible for this horror?”

“Err…” Anders tongue froze. He was saved by Marian.

“The Ferelden Circle, mother. He tried to escape a few times. They decided to lash him and stick him in solitary for a year with no healing.”

Leandra sniffed at that. “Bloody heathens,” was all she said before she gently pushed Anders into a chair.

Marian winked at him and crossed to the cupboard. “Making breakfast, mother?”

“Mmm…eggs if we have them. And I think Bodahn left some of those little muffin things. The ones from the Orlesian baker?”

Marian hummed a happy sound and went to rummage in the cupboard. Momentarily forgotten by both Hawke women, Anders sat at the table and tried to relax. They fussed around him, cracking eggs and discussing how the muffin “things” retained such a moist texture. He felt a hand slip over his hair and looked up into Leandra’s smiling face.

“So my daughter is following in my footsteps, hmm?”

“Mother, don’t tease the man. You’ve scared him witless.” Marian shook her head at her mother and pressed a kiss to Anders’ cheek. “I meant to tell you yesterday that I moved him in.”

“Marian dear, I think I figured that out myself.” The arched eyebrow and dry tone made Marian blush for a moment. “I’ll keep those thoughts to myself. Welcome to the family, Anders. Make her happy. My Malcolm made me so happy. I suppose it was a little unrealistic of me to think Marian would fall for one of the nobles. They’re all so…”

“Stuffy?” Marian grinned at her mother. She laughed when her mother rolled her eyes. She took a seat at the table next to Anders. “You can’t blame me. You’re the one who ran off with an apostate in the first place.”

Anders blinked at another head pat from Leandra and at the plate that was placed in front of him. It was full of bright yellow scrambled eggs, sausage, and little pastries. Marian handed him a cup of tea and smiled at him. He looked down at the plate again and then over to the two women, both of them watching him with bright, happy eyes. _Family_ , he thought to himself, this is _family_. He dug in, listened to his lover and her mother talk, and sank into the welcome sensation of belonging.


	29. Chapter 29

Marian had had a bad day. It had started off pretty well. Anders had woken her up with kisses and snuggles. So the day started off bright and happy and cuddly. If they had just stayed in bed like she had wanted to, the day probably would have been a wonderful one. But duty had called.

Duty had a name and that name was Aveline. The Guard Captain had shown up bright and early to go with her and Anders to the Gallows. For reasons that Marian couldn’t quite understand, Sebastian had been with Aveline. Which mean breakfast with Aveline, Sebastian, and Anders. And Anders had been unimpressed with Choir Boy. The two of them had settled into a painfully polite discussion of the Chantry and mages, only broken up when her mother appeared. That had stopped the bickering pretty quickly. Marian had been more than happy to move everyone along once her mother had started eyeing Sebastian with curiosity and some animosity for being pro-Chantry. The Hawke household tended to pay only lip-service to the institution.

The day went downhill from there. While talking to the templar Emeric, the Knight Captain had made an appearance. Marian had felt obligated to make small talk. Awkward and stilted small talk. The Knight Captain had been charming. She hadn’t remembered him as charming. What Marian had remembered was a heated debate on the topic of mages and his intractable belief that they were all non-people. But he had been all charm and smiles, which made her feel awkward and fidgety. She had left as soon as socially acceptable to go check on the lead Emeric gave her.

The lead was in a house filled with spirits and a blood mage. Marian could not stress enough how tired she was of spirits and blood mages. The man had a house filled with summoned spirits and a demon or two and he had the audacity to ask if she wanted to join forces with him. She wasn’t sure if he had killed those women that they were looking for, but she figured she had done Kirkwall a service by killing him and clearing his house. Aveline had sworn up and down that the spirits hadn’t been there when the guard first came through. And oh…could Marian stop by and help her with a personal matter?

Several incredibly embarrassing hours later, complete with the object of Aveline’s affections thinking Marian was making a move on him, and Marian had finally been able to trudge home. Anders had been sympathetic and offered to draw her a bath. Bless the man and his caretaking urges. She was now in the large tub that lived in the bathing room upstairs and neck deep in fragrant warm water. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, as she floated.

Her eyes opened to slits at the feeling of a hand brushing over her hair. Anders smiled down at her, his fingers toying with a loose strand. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes widening when she noticed he was naked. Chuckling, he went to the opposite side of the tub and eased into the water.

“Rough day, love?”

“You were there. You know how it went. And then tonight at the tavern…I am going to kill Aveline.”

He huffed with laughter and reached for her, tugged her across the tub to straddle his lap. “Mmm… Aveline is a special case, love. Don’t be hard on her.” He teased a finger down her spine and rested his hands on her lower back. “Besides, I know you love her to pieces. You did offer to help clear her route tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groaned and then gasped when his lips slid down her neck. “Anders…”

“Mmm…” was his response. He pressed on her lower back, arching her so he could kiss down to one breast. “So lovely.” His lips closed around the nipple and tugged. Her mewl of pleasure spurred him to gently bite at her. “I love listening to you.”

Marian’s fingers tangled in his hair as he suckled at her. She writhed on his lap, grinding over his hardening cock. “I…ah…ahh…oh bother…” she gave up trying to talk and simply moaned his name. She blinked when he stopped and leaned back. “What?”

His response was a smile. “Come with me to the bedroom?”

“The…but we’re in the tub and I…oh alright.” She stood, inhaled when he let his hands trail down and over her flanks. He held her there for a moment and slipped a hand between her thighs to cup her. Grasping at his shoulders, she wobbled when pleasure spiked through her at the caress of his fingers. “I thought…” Marian gibbered when he dipped a finger into her. “Bedroom?” she squeaked. His smile made her toes curl. He moved her back and then helped her out of the tub, wrapped her in a fluffy towels, and led her to their room. 

“Just lie down on your stomach.” He sent her another heated smile before turning to move across the room.

“On my stomach…ok…” Marian watched him walk to his chest of drawers and start rummaging. She stood for a moment, still wrapped in the towel, and fidgeted. He was so very knowledgeable about, well, everything and Marian’s experience had mostly been quick tumbles in the barn and that one mercenary who had the nifty scar down his cheek. Anders was in a slightly different sphere of experience when it came to the arts of the bedroom. She wondered if it bothered him. It bothered her slightly, made her breathless and nervous and excited all at once. She squinted at the bed and then at his back. What was he up to?

He turned around and saw her fidgeting and tilted his head. “On the bed Marian, on your stomach. Come on, you’ll enjoy this.” He went to her and took her hands, his eyes watching her. “You ok?”

“I…just…do you wish I was more…you know…worldly in the bedroom?” She waved her hand at the bed and flushed. “Because I just sometimes feel like a bit of a bumbling…bumble…and….”

Anders leaned forward and kissed her, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. “Ah. I was wondering if this would come up.” He rubbed her nose with his. “I love you like you are. And if I go too fast or do something that makes you uncomfortable then you should tell me.”

“And if I have questions about…things…I may want to try.” Marian tried to ignore the flaming red tide of embarrassment that was currently washing up her body.

“Then you should ask. Now go lie down on your stomach.” He gave her a little push towards the bed.

Marian muttered something about bossy apostate healers and their evil, evil plans as she dropped her towel and stretched out on her stomach. She was just about to start fidgeting when she felt him crawl onto the bed and straddle her thighs. That made her blink. The cool fall of liquid between her shoulder blades definitely made her squeak. But it was followed by the firm glide of his fingers digging into her knotted muscles, and that made her whimper.

He worked his hands over her shoulders and neck and then down her back. His thumbs dug into the muscles lining her spine, finding each pocket of tension and then slowly working them out with firm circles. By the time he had reached the swell of her hips she was a limp puddle. The gentle bite to the back of her neck caused little tingles of heat to cascade down her spine. His hands smoothed down the taut skin of her rear and then up between thighs to nudge her legs apart so that he could kneel between them. She stiffened in anticipation.

He cupped her, his hands slick from the oil, and firmly massaged over her mound. Biting at one firm cheek, he worked a finger up and into her heat. He thought to ask if this was ok but she was rocking her hips back against his hand and panted softly into the bed. A second finger caused her to bite the mattress and slide up on her knees, spreading her open to his gaze. For a few moments he sat there and watched his fingers glide into her, watched her skin flush as she grew more aroused. The sight of her arousal shook his control and he withdrew his fingers from her.

Her little sound of want was all the permission he needed. With a single thrust he seated himself into her wet sheath. They groaned together and he tightly clutched her hips. She rubbed back against him restlessly, her hips rotating as she tried to get him to move, but he held her still to enjoy the feel of her clenching around him. It was only when she grew frantic, begging breathlessly for him to take her, that he started to thrust, rocking into her with a smooth glide that had her keening his name.

His hands slid up her hips, over her back, then down between the round cheeks of her ass. He watched her for a moment when his finger slipped over her tight pucker, noted the sudden jerk and then surprised moan when he pressed lightly against her, and filed her response away for later. For another time. Instead he draped himself over her back to cuddle her, his hips moving faster as his hand caressed down her stomach, over her mound, to tease at her clit. She shuddered at the touch, buried her head into the bed and wailed as she came around him. Another thrust and he joined her.

Marian went limp, allowed herself to be turned and tugged into a cuddly embrace. Anders had wrapped himself around her and was rubbing soothing hands over every inch of skin he could touch. She was warm and loose, nearly fluid with relaxation. “Wow…we should do that again…sometime…” she mumbled.

He chuckled in response, tucking her head against his shoulder and squeezing her tightly to him. “Sleep Marian, I have you.”

“Love you, Anders,” she whispered as she relaxed into slumber.

“Love you too, sweetheart.” He tugged a cover up and held her, content that he had made her day end on a high note.


	30. Chapter 30

It had been his first day back in the clinic since he had moved. He had figured three days was enough time to be closed and that Marian was capable of solving Aveline’s romantic problems without him. He had been amused when Leandra had handed him two bags of food. He was not, she had told him in a firm tone of voice, to give it all away. She had then patted his bum, and Anders had nearly died when she did that and Marian had howled with laughter, and told him he was a handsome man but could use a few more pounds. The glaze on the pastry had been when she had said that despite him being practically malnourished he had a beautiful frame, had winked at him, and had sailed from the room with her head held high. Marian had tittered at his blush for a good five minutes. “She really likes you,” was Marian’s response right before he got a kiss and told to have a good day.

The clinic had been busy and not all of his visitors had been patients. Several had been people he’d known and worked with for years, and all had come by to offer congratulations at him finally making a move. Oh, and it was about time. That had been the general consensus. Marian Hawke had put in enough time in the clinic for most of his patients to decide she was too sweet a girl for him to have ignored for three years. It had been surprisingly heartwarming. Anders had expected them to be mildly put out that he wouldn’t be sleeping down here anymore.

Still, as the day went on, Anders found himself restless. He missed her, wanted to be with her, wanted to talk and touch and hold her. He had figured his Marian obsession would ease once he had slept with her. It hadn’t. He found himself mooning over thoughts of Marian and making plans on what he was going to do with her and to her that evening. Justice, uncharacteristically, was rather quiet through all this. When prodded, the spirit had put forth the image of their new writing space. Apparently, Justice approved of the dedicated room that had been set up as a little office for them. The spirit was dying – metaphorically speaking – to dig into the new paper that was stacked on the desktop. Anders was amused. Marian had wooed his Fade Spirit with furniture and writing utensils and had won.

He held on till dusk, watched as the last rays of the sun tilted from the high windows, and had gone to close the doors to the clinic. He had made himself clean up, tidy away bandages and clean empty potion vials to be refilled later. It was hard, he wanted to leave it all and just go home to Marian. Go home to his family. He stopped at that, his hands shaking as emotions overwhelmed him. _Home. Family. Comfort. Acceptance._ It was so new, so unexpected and wonderful. A part of him was waiting for the axe to fall and severe him from this glorious new life. After all, why would he deserve this? How could he?

He shoved those thoughts down and away and turned his thoughts to Marian. She thought he was worthy, he reminded himself. She told him so several times a day. And she wasn’t afraid to parade her emotions in front of their friends. Or Hightown. Or her mother. Thoughts of Leandra had his smile softening. He barely remembered his mother or what it was like to be worried over. The Hawke women filled his thoughts as he walked home. He hummed a soft tune as he locked the basement door behind him and climbed up and into the house proper. He was home, his home, and he was going to find his lover, his wonderful Marian. And then he was going to cover her with kisses and snuggle.

Laughter caught his ears as he entered the wide center room of the mansion, and he followed it to the little sitting room situated off to the side. Inside he found Marian and Leandra both cooing over something by the fire. Moving into the room to get a better look, his eyes grew wide when he saw the tiny kitten. A little black and white tuxedo, all fuzzy fur and big yellow eyes, toddled unsteadily towards Dodger. The big mabari leaned forward and nudged the little kitten with his large, wet nose. The kitten swayed and fell over, mewling loudly. In response, Dodger nudged the little thing and licked it, the kitten’s fur now a wet mess. The women both collapsed in a heap of laughter, Dodger whuffing softly as the kitten carefully stood and went to nuzzle the mabari’s snout.

“What is going on in here? Whose kitten is that?” Anders let out a huff of air as Marian jumped up and tackled him.

“Anders! Isn’t she just the cutest thing since…well, since Dodger was a tiny pup? Look at her!”

“I’m looking,” Anders said with amusement. He gave Marian a quick hug and moved to pick up the kitten. “Lookit you, such a sweetie. Let Anders see you, aww. So little still. Just a baby. Oh you adorable thing!” Anders speech patterns were dissolving into gentle cooing noises. The kitten batted at his finger, mewled at him, and then snuggled under his chin with contentment. He turned dewy eyes on the women who were giggling while watching him.

“Well, I suppose we have to keep her,” Leandra said as she stood, brushing off her gown. “I don’t think I have the heart to say no after seeing that face, Anders.”

Anders flushed. He supposed the baby talk wasn’t manly but even Justice was cooing a bit at the little kitten and cats were a weakness. He sat in one of the soft chairs and ran his fingers through the little cat’s fur. “I can keep him?”

“Her…and yes. We were on our way back home from the Keep when Dodger gave a howl and ran down an alley. I saw him chase several snot-nosed brats from the alleyway and then he started howling again. Poor little dear. Her mother didn’t make it. Those brats had been down there poking at the kitten. I hope Dodger bit one.” Marian sniffed at that. “He actually wouldn’t let me hold the little dear till we got home. Carried her back here in his mouth. He’s been hovering over that kitten ever since then.”

Dodger gave a woof and sat at Anders’ feet, his eyes on the kitten. Anders turned his gaze down to meet the dog’s eyes. Dodger nudged Anders’ knee with his nose and woofed again. “I’m holding her. You’ve already played with her. Go sit by the fire or something.” Dodger gave a whine and laid at Anders’ feet, eyes turned toward the little furry ball nestled under Anders’ chin.

“Like I said, I think Dodger has adopted the little dear. And now you so…we’ll keep her. You want to name her?”

“Yes. I do.” He held the little kitten up, tickled her belly, and then placed her back on his chest. “Hmm…” He scraped his chin over the kitten’s back as he thought. “Sunshine. I want to name her Sunshine because she’s a little ray of fuzzy happiness.”

“Alright, Sunshine it is. Come on Dodger, let’s go find Sunshine a bed.” Marian pressed a kiss to Anders’ cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you today. Don’t go anywhere, we have to meet up with the group at the Hanged Man. We have a _job._ ” Her smile and words made him glow with happiness and he watched her sway from the room, Dodger dancing at her feet. He didn’t even care that they had to go back out, he was so happy with the kitten.

“She really loves you,” Leandra said, taking a seat next to him. “She’s been listening for you since she got home.”

Anders glanced over at her. “You’ve been so welcoming. I don’t know what to say other than I hope I make her happy.”

Leandra sighed and tucked her legs up under her. “You know I was married to an apostate. He was in the Circle, but through some lucky circumstances found a way out of it. It was a hard life, a lot of moving, and I can’t say it’s what I wished for Marian but…she’s happy. It’s been a long time since she has been and part of that is my fault.”

Anders leaned forward, one of his hands reaching out to take one of Leandra’s. “She always understood. It hurt her, but she understood. She told me about Bethany. I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”

Leandra squeezed Anders’ hand. “I can see why she loves you so much. Handsome, witty, and caring. She told me about your escapes and what they did to you. I hope you realize that was wrong. We raised our children to value freedom and responsibility. Our greatest fear was our girls getting caught and put in the Circle. Bethany might have adjusted but Marian…she’s just too headstrong, too willful. We feared for her terribly. I still do. Sometimes that fear blinds me to her needs. I know it blinds Carver.”

Anders’ heart constricted and he struggled a moment with his emotions and Justice. “We would…I would do anything to keep her safe. Anything.”

“I think you would, Anders.” She patted at his hand and stood up. “I’m glad you’re with us. I hope, well, I hope our home becomes your home. You remind me of him, you know, my Malcolm. Just know I approve of you. And maybe eventually you’ll feel comfortable around me.”

“Leandra,” Anders watched her stop by the door and look at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything like a mother or a family. Thank you.” Her smile was bright, so like Marian’s. He returned it and then went back to cuddling his little kitten. _Home_ his mind whispered happily.


	31. Chapter 31

The Qunari had been handled. The Viscount had been handled. Aveline was happily in a relationship with Donnic. And then Merrill had come by asking if Marian could help her get a tool from the Dalish. Following her had been Fenris. He had more information on the slavers, could they go to the Wounded Coast? Marian had smiled at both and sent them to pack camping gear. They wouldn't get all of this done in one go, better plan for a camping trip.

The Dalish had been...well, they were never what Marian would call friendly. Or warm. Or welcoming. They had just been. Of course, just like when Marian had returned the locket, this turned out to not be a simple job of fetch. There had been some cave crawling and this...monster...thing...varteral. It had been massive and hard to kill. There had been death, too. One of the Dalish had fled from Merrill. When Marian had found out why she had gritted her teeth, forced out her manners, and then ushered the sobbing elf from the camp.

They had not found the slavers after that. The group, and she had brought more than just Anders, Merrill and Fenris over worries that there would be tension, were all lagging after their little trip to the Dalish camp and the fight with the varteral. Varric was making noises about stopping for the night and Marian had to agree. The first decent clearing they came to, she called a halt.

As the group set up, Anders went to Marian, his hand rubbing down her back. “If you don't want to share a tent, I'd understand...”

She looked up at him and blinked. “What?”

“We're out here with the group and I'd understand if you...didn't want to share a tent with me...ow!” Anders rubbed at his arm. “You hit me!”

“I swear, Anders. I'm tired, sore, I have some sort of slimy ooze from that varteral in one of my shoes, and now you don't want to sleep next to me? What's going on?”

“I...” Anders glanced around and noticed the group glancing at the two of them. “I just didn't want to push the issue.” He rubbed a hand over his hair and sighed. “I'm sorry. Look, Marian, I'm sorry. I always set up my own tent when I was with Eavan and then would sneak into hers after everybody had gone to bed. I'm just not used to being...acknowledged...”

Marian's exhale was soft, gentle. “Anders, you don't need to apologize. You're sleeping in my tent, our tent. I packed an extra blanket in your bag and everything.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We'll work on it. One step at a time.” She bent down and picked up the first tent stake. “If you want, you can help.”

Anders gave a tentative smile and grabbed another stake and the anchor lines. “No, I got this. Why don't you go see who's cooking tonight.” He made a shooing motion at her and started setting up the tent. She watched him for a moment, noting his worry lines smoothing out and his smile growing, and went to see about food.

***

She pulled first watch with Varric. She had paired everybody up except for Anders, who healed and therefore got to sleep all night. It was a fair deal in pretty much everybody's mind. They knew Anders would heal himself dry to keep the group up, so letting him sleep a bit was hardly a sacrifice.

It was a cozy companionship she had with Varric, one built on survival and trust and affection. He had stepped into the brotherly role the minute Carver had stepped out, had offered his business experience and knowledge, and his shoulder to cry on. So taking first watch with Varric was comfortable.

“So...you and Blondie...”Varric let his voice drift off. Marian rolled her eyes. He had asked her this a while ago in the Hanged Man. At the time, the answer had been a no.

“Yes. Blondie and I. He's moved in and everything. You should see my mother with him.” Marian slanted a look at Varric. “She fusses.”

“I bet. He needs it. You know I like him, right? I mean, despite that other guy riding around in his head, he's a good guy. But...” Varric scratched his chin and looked embarrassed. “Look, Hawke. You know I...ah...care for you, right?”

“Varric, is this a declaration of love? Are you jealous?” Marian teased him, watching the rare flush rise over the dwarf's cheeks. She leaned back and let her gaze wander over his chest, “Because you do have the most sinful chest hair I've ever seen...”

Varric huffed a laugh. “Hawke, you're making me blush. Andraste's knickers, woman. I just wanted to say to be careful. He's not playing with a full deck, not all the time. I don't want to see you hurt.”

Marian sat up, reached for his hands and squeezed them. “I know you mean well, Varric, but Anders isn't crazy. He's been hurt terribly in the past and by people who should have known better. And yes, he's dangerous. But I think we all probably fit that bill. Even Sebastian.” She gazed into his eyes, saw worry and affection, and scooted over to wrap her arms around him. “I love you, Varric. Thank you for worrying about me.”

Varric patted at her arms and leaned against her. “Love you too, Hawke. Too bad you aren't a cute Dwarven lady.” He grinned when she pinched him. “What? You might be able to give Bianca a run for her money. Would be a tough race, though. Bianca, she's one of a kind.”

Marian just laughed. Her gaze turned toward her tent, to the outline of the man sitting in there waiting for her. He was stretched out, head propped up on one hand, and it looked like he was reading. She watched Anders' silhouette through the rest of her watch.

***

Fenris and Isabela had taken second watch. The minute the two of them had made an appearance Marian had retreated to her tent. Anders was still up, a small lantern burning and a book in his hand. He looked up when she entered the tent, his eyes lighting up. “Done with playing guard?”

“Yep. Quiet night. Just the way I like it.” Marian sat to pull off her boots and socks, wiggling her toes in relief.

“I heard you and Varric talking.” Anders closed his book, rubbed the cover with his fingers. “He's right you know. About me being not all there...and a danger.”

“Anders.” Marian sent him an exasperated look. “You are fine the way you are. I'm pretty dangerous. And I've been told I'm a couple sips short a pint.” She scooted over to him. “You are a good man. Varric's just doing what family does – worry.”

He pulled her closer to cuddle. Setting his book aside, he doused the lantern, and then started unfastening her robe. “I waited for you.” He spread open the robe and ran a hand over her breast band. “I couldn't sleep without you in here.”

Her laugh was breathy. “This doesn't seem like sleep. You do know that Isabela and Fenris are right outside, right?” She let out a low gasp when he pinched her hardening nipple.

His response was to nibble up her neck to her jaw. He traced along her jawline with his tongue while his hand kneaded her breast. She was squirming, making soft little noises of pleasure. The temptation to take was there, but he knew she was nervous about being naked in such close confines. Instead, he settled himself back on their packs and tugged her against his chest to whisper into her ear the things he wanted to do to her: every fantasy, every dream. She grew more agitated as his descriptions grew more explicit. But despite her quiet begging, he never moved his hands from her breasts, never removed her breast band or any more of her clothing. Instead he peppered his talks with teasing nips on her neck while he rolled her nipples between his fingers, tugged on them, squeezed and fondled her breasts. It was with a shocked gasp that she came, and he quickly turned her face so he could capture her lips and swallow her breathy moans. Sucking on her tongue, teasing her breasts, he made her ride the crest of the orgasm until she was limp and panting. Then he pulled her down on the blanket with him and cuddled her close.

She shifted against him, felt his erection, and stilled. “Don't you want to...aren't you hurting?”

“Shh, sleep. I'm fine. I just needed to hear you, feel you.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and smiled when she murmured her confusion. “You can make it up to me at home, if you're worried.” He held her till she relaxed into sleep, her body lax and warm against his. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair before he joined her in slumber.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning***  
> This chapter deals with infertility. If you are especially sensitive to this topic, please feel free to skip the chapter
> 
> **further notes at the end

Anders was bent over the writing desk in his study working on his manifesto; he had been for the past several hours. Going to the coast with Marian had been good for him, even with the fights and Fenris' breakdown over mages, but Justice was antsy about getting work done. He needed to learn how to balance out his time with Marian and his obligations with Justice so that one didn't overtake the other. It would be so easy to let one side slide and one side become dominate. And that wouldn't work. He shouldn't immerse himself in Marian anymore than he should allow Justice to subsume him.

Balance wasn't something Anders was used to. He had always been an all or nothing type of guy. And usually a run at the first sign of danger or work kind of guy. If the going got hard, Anders got going. However, if he had wanted something, he would stubbornly keep at it. _Which would explain all the escape attempts_ , he thought wryly. But now, he had responsibilities, he had made promises, and he supposed he had grown up. That thought made him and Justice chuckle. To think that Anders had reached any level of maturity was...staggering.

He had just started working again, pushing aside his ruminations in order to tackle the thorny problem of mage rights, when Marian came into the room. She gave him a shy smile as she moved to him. His eyes took her in, noting the slight signs of nerves as she stopped in front of him. He tilted his head, his look considering. “What's wrong, love?”

“Well,” she started and then stopped to gaze up at the ceiling. Anders recognized this as Marian's way of gathering her thoughts and waited patiently. “You know how you said I could come to you with anything? Any...er...questions?”

That made Anders set his pen down and push back from the desk. He scooted his chair back and then patted his lap, giving Marian a warm smile. She flushed and settled against him, sighing with relief when his arms wrapped around her. “You can ask me anything, Marian. Anything.”

“Well...” she toyed with his fingers, “We have a pretty active, um, sex life. Right?”

“Could be more active,” Anders nuzzled her neck, laughing when she giggled and smacked at him. “But yes, I would say we have a healthy sex life. Why?”

“Well...” she glanced over at him, “We haven't discussed...babies...and, er, we do seem to enjoy...ah...having sex. And that leads to babies and...I just think while I'm not against kids I don't think I'm up for them yet? And I know you're a little older than me but perhaps you aren't ready either? And you're a healer and should know how to keep that from happening...right?” Her eyes were wide and panic filled. “Not that I'm saying I wouldn't. Have a baby. With you I mean...”

“Ah. I see.” Anders cuddled her closer and tried to not sigh. He had hoped to not have this talk for a while. Maybe years. Marian was younger than him and it stood to reason she would want to marry, want to have a family and...he...couldn't. “Marian. You know I'm a Grey Warden, right?”

She nodded, her eyes searching his face. “Yes.”

“Do you know anything about Wardens?”

“Well, you fight the Blight and the Darkspawn. And you can sense them? And are immune to the taint. And you go into the Deep Roads. That's about it, really. Well, and the gryphons.”

Anders wondered how much he could tell her before he crossed some mystical line in the world of Wardens. Then he wondered if he cared. She deserved to know, deserved the option to walk away. Would she? Marian had sworn to him that she would never leave him but...what he was about to tell her could very well be a deal breaker. For a moment, he felt like he was drowning. Felt like he had just a few weeks ago, before Marian and him had slept together, before she had professed she loved him. Pain lanced through him and he clutched her tighter.

“Anders? What is it? You're scaring me.”

“Marian. Wardens can't...have children. Or at least, it's virtually impossible. What I'm about to tell you, well, if the Wardens knew they would be very mad. But you deserve to know. So you can...make the right choice. What happens when we join the Wardens, it helps us fight the Darkspawn. But...it changes us. Some of it you know: we can sense the Darkspawn, we are always hungry, and we have a lot of...stamina. But, we are practically infertile and our lifespans are short. Only about thirty years from the date we joined.”

Marian's eyes never left his. “So...no kids?”

Anders shook his head, his eyes dropping as he fought the urge to flee. “No kids. And I've probably got a little more than twenty-five years left. Before my Calling. I should have told you sooner. I...was selfish. You should...”

Marian covered his mouth with her hand. “I know you aren't going to say I should find somebody else. Right, Anders?'

“But...Marian...”

“Twenty-five years with you is better than a life without you. And we can adopt. There are so many kids that need a home now...especially after the Blight. I...know we are still getting used to each other but one day...well. One day maybe you'll feel comfortable marrying me.”

Anders blinked at her, his eyes tearing up. “What?”

“I'm not proposing; stop looking at me like that. I'm just thinking that maybe one day we could make this permanent. Maybe in a few years, when my position is fully settled and my mother taken care of.”

“But we're mages!”

“Well, so was my Papa and he and Mother were married. In the Chantry no less. Maybe we could go back to Ferelden. I've heard King Alistair is a good king, that he has a low tolerance for Chantry oversight. It's...worth a talk later. But if you are infertile then I suppose we don't need to worry about unintended pregnancies now.” Marian gave him a gentle smile.

“But don't you want kids? Don't you want to have a family?”

“Anders, don't be silly. If I can't have your babies, then I don't want to be pregnant. We'll figure something out. I can't promise you that I won't cry a bit later, but...you're worth it.” She tugged him into her arms and squeezed.

“I swear, Marian. I don't deserve you. Are you even real?”

“Well, I ate the last of the tarts...and I think Dodger was sleeping in your coat again...and um...Sunshine shredded one of your manifesto pages...and...I may have invited Fenris over for dinner so he'd feel better...” She smiled at him.

“Little things compared to the sacrifices you make to be with me.”

“What sacrifices?” she scoffed. “I've got the most handsome, capable healer in all of Kirkwall as my lover. I'm the one winning. You're the one stuck with the bumbling...er...bumble who can't speak straight, trips, and impales herself on her own staff.”

“It was just that one time, love.”

“Once is enough. Once in enough. Now, I'll leave you to your writing. Dinner is in a couple of hours. And...I love you...” She hopped off his lap, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and skipped from the room.

Anders gazed down at his manifesto and began to write again. This time it was about forgiveness, acceptance, love, and how mages everywhere deserved the right to be as happy as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any reader wondering if this is a "realistic" way to handle infertility, I can say that it is. I was diagnosed with a condition that made me unable to get pregnant. Marian's response is based almost word for word on what my husband told me one night during a breakdown. For some people, kids are the pinnacle of relationship bliss. For others, they aren't. Thanks for reading - in some ways, this chapter was cathartic to write.


	33. Chapter 33

Anders wondered if Marian would allow him to keep snacks in the bedroom because really, he seemed to eat non-stop. Maybe it was the readily available food? He didn't remember being this hungry in Darktown. No, that's not being honest. He remembered being so hungry his stomach had hollowed out and the pain had fizzled into a constant ache that he could ignore. Now, with regular meals, his hunger was a normal urge. It wasn't the gnawing of starvation. Still, snacks in the bedroom meant he could eat while naked and get back to cuddling Marian instead of pulling on pants to keep from embarrassing himself in front of Leandra.

The windows showed that it was still dark, though the quality of dark was more the shadows before dawn than the pitch black of night. He figured it was too early, even for Leandra, and resolved to be quiet and quick. Not that he didn't adore Leandra, he just didn't want to be fussed over. He wanted something to quiet the growling so he could return to bed and sleep.

His heart sank when he saw the lights in the kitchen. With a quiet mutter, he opened the door. The young elven woman working at the big center table let out a scream of fright, dropped the wicked-looking kitchen knife, and clutched at her throat. Anders jumped and smacked himself on the door. For a moment, they both stood stock still and panted with fear. Gradually, Anders relaxed. He recognized the young woman...Orana, he thought. Her name was Orana and Hawke had rescued her from slavers and apparently, given her a job.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted a snack.” Anders voice was gentle, soothing. He moved into the room with a slow gait, eyes on the nervous woman. “You're Orana, correct? I'm Anders.”

“Oh Master Anders, I am so sorry. You ran right into the door because of me. And..and I'm bleeding on the food. Oh...do you think Mistress will be mad?” Orana had released her throat and was cradling her other hand against her chest. She was so upset she was shaking, her body quivering with fear.

Anders frowned. “You're bleeding? Let me see.”

“Oh no. I can bandage it myself. I wouldn't want...no...oh Master Anders...” Orana paled when he slowly reached out and took her hand, turning it in the light to look at the cut. It was deep but did not appear to have damaged any nerves or tendons. A brief flare of healing magic and the cut sealed closed, skin re-knitting. A moment later and her hand was smooth and unblemished. Orana gaped at him.

“There. I am very sorry. I can leave if I scare you. I wouldn't want you to be frightened of me.” Anders patted her hand and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Orana's eyes were wide on his face. “You...you're a mage?”

“Yes.” Anders eyed her warily.

“And...you healed me? With magic? You thought I was...but I'm not worth...you shouldn't waste your abilities on me, Master Anders.”

“Orana,” Anders watched her carefully, “Did the Magisters not heal you when you were injured?”

“Oh no, Master Anders. Not unless we had some valuable abilities. And I wasn't worth that much.” Orana twisted her hands in her apron, her face a mask of worry. “You shouldn't waste yourself on me.”

Anders felt sick at her words, that anybody could be so callous, so cruel. Anders knew mages like that existed. Men and women who saw magic as a means to control, not a means to help or enhance life. He knew these were the types of mages who made his job harder, who fanned the flames of hatred and fear. He looked at Orana and saw a woman who had been shaped by magic, perhaps in ways as harsh as what Fenris had dealt with. She seemed to have no fear of magic. Instead, she saw herself as worthless. And that...wasn't right either. _Mage rights shouldn't,_ he thought, _come at the expense of somebody like Orana._ He needed to remember that for his manifesto – so he could counter the argument that all mages wanted to be like the Tevinter Magisters.

Orana shifted, her eyes not leaving his face. She watched him warily, waiting for punishment. Anders moved to her, took her hands and squeezed them. “You are worth every last drop of my healing abilities, Orana. Never think otherwise. Now, what are you making? I'm starving.”

Orana looked into Anders' eyes and saw nothing but kindness, acceptance, and friendship. She flushed at his affectionate hand squeeze and his words. “I was making some cheese tarts for breakfast. And then some scones. I have some sweet biscuits made, if you would like some.”

“Have you been baking all night?” Anders' eyes lit up at the biscuits.

“Oh no, I made the biscuits last night. But the scones and tarts should be fresh.”

Anders reached for a handful of biscuits, biting into one and making happy noises. “Your baking skills are worth any healing. These are delicious. I'm just...going to take them with me and...I'll be back at a reasonable time for tarts.” He offered her a sheepish grin. “I love tarts.”

Orana slowly smiled back. “Then I'll make sure to have a plate ready for you, Master Anders.”

“It's just Anders, Orana. And thank you.” Anders beamed at her, leaving quietly. He climbed the stairs back to his room, devouring the biscuits before he even made it through the door. Curling back around Marian, he drifted back to sleep.

And when he woke, a plate of fresh baked tarts was waiting for him. Placed in front of him at breakfast by a shyly smiling Orana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire idea of Anders enjoying cheese tarts was unabashedly taken from Chapter 15 of Questions Answered by delazeur, found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1186048/chapters/2812990
> 
> If you aren't reading this, well, get over there and read it. This story inspired mine! So many hugs to be given!


	34. Chapter 34

It was rare for Marian to wake up before Anders. His internal clock was set to wake him hours before the sun actually rose. He woke before her and if not watched, went to bed much later than she did. He was a challenge, Anders was. Watching him sleep, Marian thought the challenges worth it. He had one hand tucked under his chin, the other loosely curled against his chest. Periodically, his fingers would twitch and a wisp of magic would swirl only to waft out. Healing dreams, she thought. Fade spirits speaking to him. 

It had been a week since their talk about kids. A week of Marian putting it out of her mind, of being busy with Hightown politics and Kirkwall jobs. A week spent running errands without Anders so that he could have the space to heal and write. A week of missing him terribly during the day, of fighting the urge to invade his space. She had hoped the compulsion to be with him would ease after he moved in, but it hadn’t. If anything, it had grown. The need to touch, hold, soothe…it strangled her every minute she was away from him.

Anders’ face scrunched and he muttered something under his breath, his hand flexing. She fought the urge to take his hand, to wake him. He needed the sleep. He muttered again, rolling to his back and kicking at the covers. For a moment, she watched him struggle against the blankets and then he inhaled sharply and sat up. His eyes stared blindly ahead, sweat blossoming on his brow. Gradually, he woke, focused on the room. With an exasperated sigh, he fell backwards.

“Bad dream?”

“Blighted nightmares. If I’m not dreaming of templars and the Circle, I’m dreaming of spawn and the Deep Roads.” He rubbed a hand over his face, working to scrub the remnants of the dream away. “Sometimes it’s patients I’ve lost. And sometimes I dream of losing you. Those are the worst. I can handle everything else but…that…” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I was already up. Is it creepy that I was watching you sleep?”

He shifted, rolling to face her. “I watch you sleep, so I hope it isn’t. Creepy that is.”

Marian slid closer to him and pressed her lips against his and draped one arm over his side to hold him. One kiss became two, went from simple affection to stirring heat. It was with some surprise that Marian pushed Anders back into the bed and took control of the kiss for once. He let her, pleased that she would take. Pleased that she wanted to. 

His mouth made her head spin. The feel of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, the way he made little noises when she bit under his chin, he made her dizzy with want. He felt good under her hands, solid and warm. She wanted more, more than just to kiss at his lips and suck on his neck. She slid down his body, her lips trailing over his shoulders and chest to tease and taste. She explored him, found delight in the crock of his elbow, the tender skin around his belly button, the crease of his leg, each spot causing him to catch his breath and whisper her name. By the time she had settled between his legs, he was hard and panting, one arm flung over his face. She couldn’t resist the urge to nip at his inner thigh, smiling when he whimpered. She wanted to taste, she realized, wanted to pleasure him until he sobbed her name. It was…powerful feeling…to hear him moan because it was her tongue sliding over his cock, hear him gasp because it was her mouth wrapping around him. The feeling of his fingers in her hair encouraged her to take more of him in, to cup his sack and gently stroke and squeeze. 

Anders struggled with his control, with the sensations curling and skittering over him. Marian wasn’t holding back in her taking. Every touch, every lick, every caress spoke of her love. It was shattering to feel how much she loved him. He settled his hand on her head, his fingers slipping into her hair to rub and encourage her. His other arm lay draped over his face and he pressed down on his eyes, his control slowly slipping away with each wet stroke of her mouth.

She unmade him one gentle draw at a time. Each slide of her lips, each flick of her tongue, wound him tighter, till he was drawn taut against the bed. Her eyes slipped up his body as she took him back into her mouth, meeting his as he pulled his arm away from his face and moved to sit up, to pull her up to him. She stopped him with a hand on his stomach, shook her head even as she suckled on him, and he fell back with a breathless laugh and let her bring him over the edge with lips and tongue and hands. 

When he had settled, she moved back to his side to cradle him against her. “You didn’t have to…” he murmured to her.

“Mm…but I wanted to. Have wanted to for a while.”

“Really?” That made him sit up and look down at her, his eyes searching her face.

“I can’t be the first woman who’s wanted to…er…get their mouth on you. Um…” she flushed slightly. “Yes…I wanted to. There’s quite a few things I’d like to do to you…with you…oh…”

That made him grin. “Perhaps that’s something we can talk about?”

She tugged him back down to her, pulled him close to press kisses over his face. “Perhaps. Later. After breakfast.” Her eyes were happy when he laughed, when he held her close and teased at her. He made her so happy. In that moment she realized she hadn’t lied to him that day they spoke of children and his inability to give her any. She would rather be with this man than anybody else – even if it meant no children. Even if it meant no marriage. Even if it meant only twenty or so years together. 

He gave her a look, tilted his head at her thoughtful expression, his eyes growing slightly wary. “Love?”

“Hmm…just counting my blessings, Anders.” She gave him another squeeze. “You were at the top of the list.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins the slight detour through the Legacy DLC. This is slightly angsty - ok, so this begins the angsty (but there are some high points too) chapters.

Marian had figured that her reputation, well-gained by stomping on a large portion of gangs and slavers in Kirkwall, would make most would-be attackers pause. She never figured the ones that hid on the Wounded Coast would stop from attempting to stab her – they were the most desperate of the outlaws. But in Hightown? In Kirkwall proper? She figured she had put a stop to most of the random attacks – at least the ones that occurred against her.

So she had been unprepared for the group of dwarves that ran at her as she left the Hanged Man. Unfortunately for the dwarves, she had been with her friends and leaving to hit up a job. By the time the dust had settled, the dwarves were dead and she was pissed. 

“Hold up, Hawke. This one looks familiar.” Varric rolled over one of the corpses to get a closer look. “This is a Carta member. You been stepping on any toes?”

“Not that I know of Varric.” Marian glared at the dead dwarf. “At least not Carta toes. Chantry toes, Viscount toes, those obnoxious slavers’ toes – but not Carta toes.”

“Let me look into this. I know a guy.”

Marian shook her head. “Yeah. You know all sorts of guys. Let me know what you find, Varric.”

***

Varric’s information had led him to a general area in the Vimmark mountains. It also pointed at another attack that had happened at the Gallows. More Carta members, only this time going after Carver. Marian had declared this to be unacceptable. Carver might the world’s largest ass, but he was her ass. Nobody got to stomp him but her. She told Varric to pack up gear, they were going after the ones responsible.

And that’s where it got tricky. Anders was unwilling to let her go without him. She had Varric and Carver going and had figured she’d ask Merrill or Fenris to join them. But Anders was not having any of it. “Look Marian,” he said as he took her hands, “You don’t get to just gallivant off to deal with Carta members without me.”

“Anders,” her voice was patient, “There’s some concern that we could end up in the Deep Roads. We don’t even know what’s out there. Varric has some rumors and a general map, that’s it. The map has an entrance shown. It’s probably not there, but why risk it? I don’t want to risk you.”

“But you can risk yourself? You do it for everybody else. You’ve put your life on the line for me and the rest of our friends, for the Viscount, for the Arishok. Hell, you’ve even risked life and limb for the damn templars. But I’m not allowed to offer myself to keep you safe?” Anders was starting to vibrate with anger. Small, jagged lines of blue fade energy leaked from his skin. “I will not allow you… _WE WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO GO ALONE_.” Anders lost control of himself.

“Be reasonable. You can stay here and work. Take care of Mother. Help the refugees. We’re just going to check this out. I doubt it will be very dangerous…Anders!” Her voice shook as he grabbed her and pushed her roughly against the wall. He pinned her there, held her still as he leaned into her face.

" _IT IS NOT YOUR DECISION MARIAN HAWKE,_ ” Justice’s voice boomed through the room. “ _WE WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO GO ALONE. YOU GO WITH US OR NOT AT ALL. IT IS AN INJUSTICE TO ASK ANDERS TO SIT BY AND WATCH YOU WALK TO WHAT COULD BE YOUR DEATH._ ”

Marian hated that the blighted fade spirit made sense. She hated that if this had been Anders about to go off on some fool quest she would be bullying her way into going with him. She hated that he was right. “Fine! Fine…you can go. You can both go…I just…” she deflated, sagged against his hands. “I don’t want to see you hurting. I can’t…I just…you are so important to me.”

Anders shook as he regained control, dragged her against him and into a tight embrace. His voice broke as he pressed his face against her hair, “Can’t you see that I would die if you were hurt? That you mean more to me than anything? Please, don’t leave me here. I need to be there for you. You’ve given me a home, a family…love…let me be there for you.”

She returned his tight hug with one of her own. She hadn’t realized how serious he was, how much her no would hurt him. Looking at him, watching fear return to a face that had for the last few weeks held nothing but happiness was a punch to the stomach. She had wanted to keep him safe, but it was apparent now that safe wasn’t an option. “Ok. Ok. You’re coming too.” 

He exhaled in relief, his arms gentling. The fear still hung in his eyes, still pinched his face. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, Marian Hawke. You are my everything.” What could she do but let him pull her into a fierce kiss, let him tug her to the floor, except hold him as he sobbed against her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his lips, against his cheek. She held him as he quieted, relaxed against her, and realized that the depth of love she felt for him went both ways.


	36. Chapter 36

Seeing Carver again had torn open a wound Marian had thought long healed. In typical Carver fashion, he had refused to let her come get him at the Gallows. His message to her had told her to stay put, he would come home to her. She was not, under any circumstances, to go to the Gallows to get him. It had been another painful reminder to Marian that she wasn’t a welcome part of Carver’s life. That he showed up to leave in full templar regalia had just been rubbing her face in the truth that Carver had moved on and his life didn’t leave any space for her.

She had hugged her mother, had tasked Bodahn with keeping the house safe, and left before she lost her nerve. Traveling with a templar, even if the templar was her brother, was going to wear on her. And judging by the look currently living on Anders’ face, it was going to wear on him as well. They hadn’t made it far out of Kirkwall when the first barb was thrown.

“So, was nobody else available then? We have to bring the possessed apostate?” Carver sneered a bit at Anders. Marian sighed and shook her head.

“He volunteered, Carver. Show some manners, please.”

Carver’s response was to snort and move away from her to walk with Varric. As he passed her he threw her a disgruntled look. “You didn’t have to come. The templars would have handled this. We aren’t helpless you know.”

Marian didn’t know how to respond to that. Pointing out that she had also been attacked seemed like the start to an argument. So she let it go and fell back to walk next to Anders. “Well, he’s a ray of sunshine.” Her smile was tense.

“He’s an ass. It’s obvious he’s not made friends with the more…temperate…templars. But I suppose he has something to prove.” Anders offered, his eyes searching her face. “I’m trying, love. I am.”

“I know, Anders. I would appreciate it if you could keep the righteous templar smiting to a minimum. At least against Carver.”

He sighed, “Fine. But I want to cuddle tonight as payment. No arguments.”

“No arguments here, Anders. None.” Marian smiled up at him and took his hand.

***

They managed to get to the first stop without anybody committing murder. But the first night out was marked by increasingly harsh commentary from Carver that culminated the moment he realized only three tents were going up.

“Where’s the abomination sleeping?”

Marian’s slow blink was usually recognized as the first step toward flambéed death. “Anders is sleeping in my tent. You do realize he’s moved in, correct? That we are a couple?”

“I thought I heard that. I didn’t put much stock in the rumors. After all, I figured Mother would throw him out. I told her as much when I wrote to her. He draws too much attention to you, Sister. You’d be wise to cut him loose.”

“Draws too much attention to me or to you? I don’t have much dealings with the templars, Brother.”

“The Knight-Captain has his eye on you, Marian.”

That made her start, made Anders sit up and actually listen. “What?”

“You made a favorable impression with him. You could bring us a lot of prestige by quelling your magic and making nice with Knight Captain Cullen. He has some influence with the Knight Commander.”

“Carver,” Marian’s voice was deathly quiet. “Are you whoring me out to the Knight Captain?”

Carver’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean…not like that. I just meant he speaks highly of you. But if you associate with a known apostate – and you are known, Anders – then you risk being brought in as well. It’s only a matter of time before one of us gets tasked with arresting him. Did you honestly think the rumors of an apostate healer in Darktown wouldn’t reach the Gallows? I have to say, there are some of us who would make him Tranquil first and ask questions later.” Carver wasn’t paying any attention to Marian as he spoke. His eyes were on Anders, gauging the digs. His lips curled up cruelly. “After all, we didn’t have any problems until you met him. You lost your mind over an apostate, Marian. I thought you knew better.”

“Uh, Junior? You might want to quit talking. At least, if you want to make it to our destination.”

“What’s that Varric?” Carver finally noticed Marian and what he saw made his cheeks pale. She had stood up and was holding her staff, gripping it tightly.

“I swear to the Maker, Carver, you are such an ass.” Electricity crackled over her as her temper slowly frayed. “So it’s Anders fault now? My magic? It’s not enough to blame me for Papa’s death, for Bethany’s. Now you have to pin the blame of everything bad that’s ever happened to us on Anders? I’ll tell you once and only once, you leave him out of it. You leave him alone. And you tell your…cronies…that if they value their lives they will forget about the apostate living in Darktown.”

Carver stood to face her, his hands clenching. “You don’t get to order me around anymore, Marian. I’m a templar. You should remember that. Your magic has done nothing but hinder our family – hinder me. Because of you we had to move frequently, could never stay in one spot, could never settle. And it was your fault Papa died. And Bethany! How could you not stop it? You’re the oldest! They always said you were in charge – but you didn’t stop any of it!” His voice slashed the air between them, razor sharp with his bitterness.

Usually Marian could reign in her temper, could pull back because Carver was her brother. But not tonight, not after threatening Anders. Her magic swirled around her, bit at Carver with sharp nips and tears. Her eyes widened as she felt it swell through her, her anger causing her control to shred. She saw Anders stand, move to go to her, and then the world went white hot with agony as her magic was ripped from her. Carver panted, his eyes wild on her face as he released the smite. For a moment, the world stood still as brother and sister stared at each other. Then Marian was collapsing and Anders was standing in front of her, Justice slowly edging out of his eyes, and Varric was pushing Carver back to his tent.

“Son, if you value your life, you will get into your tent and stay there. Maybe learn how to curb that tongue of yours. Go. Before Anders here does something he’ll regret later.” Varric watched Carver stumble to his tent, his skin ashen with shock at what he had just done. Varric kept his eyes on Carver until the tent was closed, then he turned back to Anders. “Alright, he’s gone. Alright Anders.” 

Anders shook, clung to his control as he turned to gather up Marian. She whimpered brokenly against him, clung to him weakly. “Thank you, Varric.” Anders’ voice was rough. “I would have killed him.”

“I know, Blondie. I’m half-tempted myself. You’d think he would have learned how to control that mouth of his. Go see to her. I’ll sit watch for part of the night and make Junior take the rest. Just…she’s going to need you, Anders.” He watched Anders nod and carry Marian to their tent. Then he sat down and dropped his head into his hands, pity for the Hawke children welling up in him.


	37. Chapter 37

It was a long night for Anders. A night spent holding Marian as she fretted, a night spent clinging to control as Justice raged and demanded Carver’s blood. A night spent listening to Marian sob against him, blame herself for Carver, for Bethany, for her Papa. A night spent wishing he could turn back the clock and notice she was losing control, notice Carver was snapping. All he could do was hold her and whisper to her of his love. It didn’t seem enough.

Morning brought the realization that they would have to leave the tent. They couldn’t just stay there and hide. Marian had pressed Anders’ hand. “Let me talk to him before you come out.”

“Is that wise? He smote you last night, Marian. What if he does it again today? You’re still shocky. Really, we should take the day to rest and recover.”

Pressing her forehead to his, Marian gave a dejected sigh. “I need to try to set things right, Anders. He’s my brother. We’ve always had fights. Sometimes they ended in one of us bleeding from a split lip. And I’ve zapped him a few times. This…we need to fix this. Mother would be beside herself if she knew what had happened. He might have used a Smite, but I lost control of my magic. There is no good excuse for that, Anders. You know that.”

He gathered her to him, held her close against his body because the thought of her leaving to go talk to Carver scared him. She made sense, spoke true words. It was dangerous for a mage to lose control. He knew that, understood it better than any mage. But this was Marian, his Marian. And her brother was a templar. He clung to her, desperately trying to gather his control. “I…do know. I know how dangerous it is for mages to lose control. What I don’t know is how siblings act. I don’t…have any basis for it. I just see a templar attacking the woman I love. It’s hard to remember he’s your brother when he’s wearing that Maker-damned armor.”

“Fair enough. Let me talk to him. Give me a few minutes. You’ll be able to hear us through the tent. We need to set this right before we head into what’s probably a horrible trap.”

He sighed and let her stand, his hands trailing over her calves as she reached for her staff, “How can you be so forgiving?”

Her answering smile was tight, “I can be forgiving in here with you, Anders. I’m trying to…reign in the desire to simply light him on fire.” She gave him a final look and then left the tent. He leaned back against their blankets and sighed, wishing he could solve this for her.

***

Marian found Carver near the fire, haggard looking and wan. He didn’t look as if he had slept a wink, looked as bad as she felt. When she sat next to him, his shoulders hunched and he seemed to curl into himself. “Carver…” she wasn’t sure what she would say but by the Maker, she would say something.

She didn’t get a chance to. At her the sound of her voice, Carver lurched toward her and gathered her up. She found herself crushed against his breastplate, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his cheek pressed to hers. He was sobbing. Her brother, her big, lumoxy, stubborn, ass of a brother was shaking and sobbing against her. And really, what could she do but hold him and let him cry it out, be reminded of when they had been kids and fought, had hurt each other. It always had ended with one searching for the other, sobbing out their apology while clinging desperately together. It hadn’t been this way with Bethany. But with Carver, with the two of them so stubborn and fiery, their tempers always led them to hurt each other first and then cling and beg for forgiveness.

She shed a few tears too, her face pressed against the stiff collar of his templar robe as she shook and cried. She clung to him, her hands clenched around the hated breastplate, sniffled and giggled a bit when he flexed his fingers against her side and tickled her. Finally, the tears ended and they sat together, her leaning against his chest, exhausted and wrung out from the release.

“Marian…I am so sorry. There is no good excuse. I let my fear and anger and my…jealousy…you know I can be an ass.” Carver sighed. “But to do that to you. To use my templar abilities against my own sister? I’m no better than the other bastard templars.”

“I’m at fault too, Carver. I lost control. And you know what Papa would have said. He would have said that you might have pushed me, but my magic is my responsibility.”

Carver sighed at that. “I blame you for so much. I don’t know how to get past it. This resentment of you. I love you so much. You’re my sister…of course I love you. But…I just. I always feel second best.”

She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “Carver Hawke, you are never second best. You never have been. I may not…like…seeing you as a templar but…look at you. All handsome in your armor. And if you are speaking to the Knight Captain, then you must be doing very well. And all without me. I wouldn’t have wanted you to join the templars, but if this is where you feel like you can make a difference, then make a difference. Maker knows, we need good templars out there.”

“Maybe I’m just living up to my namesake, right? Ser Maurevar Carver. He was a good templar.”

Marian pressed a kiss to Carver’s cheek and stood up. “You’ll be a good one too. Now please, lay off Anders. I love him. He loves me. Mother approves. She patted his bum and everything.”

“Sister! I don’t want…please. I’ll lay off the mean comments. Just don’t…I don’t want to think about Anders’ bum. Alright?” He watched her lips curve up into a teasing smile and groaned.

“Should we be discussing Merrill’s bum, then?

“Maker, sister! Let’s just…get going.”

She laughed as she went to get Anders. Maybe everything wasn’t solved, and chances were good that there would be another fight or three between her and Carver, but for the moment the world was set right again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might wonder why i decided to write Marian and Carver like this - because I have a little sister and she also used to moan about being second best. Which has always been poppycock - my sister is amazing. But we had a lot of fights like this - slap down, full on, bloody fights that ended in tears and apologies.


	38. Chapter 38

Anders kept a close eye on Carver after that first night. But the young man seemed to be honestly trying to behave. There had been more spats, of course. Marian and Carver seemed to naturally oppose each other. But there was laughter, too. Especially in the evenings at camp. Stories would be told – of childhood, of friends, of templar training and missions taken. He watched them bond, the Hawke siblings. Watched as Carver smiled more and Marian relaxed. 

It was on a high note that they reached their destination and found it crawling with Carta thugs and questions. No answers seemed forthcoming. Not from the environment, not from the Carta, not from anywhere. It was just straight fighting and babbling about blood and needs and a sleeper. Shrouded in this mystery, the group could do nothing more than plunge forward and fight in the hopes that somebody, somewhere, would have an answer for them.

And that answer came from an unlikely source. It was only after they had fallen into the Carta's trap, been stuck in what appeared to be an actual entrance to the Deep Roads, that the mystery was solved. A tainted Warden, a man obviously come to complete his Calling, told the group the bitter truth. They were stuck in this Warden prison and unable to leave unless a captured soul by the name of Corypheus was killed. It was this...being...that wanted the blood of the Hawke. 

Watching the man scurry away, his skin blackened with the taint and his mind shattered, Anders felt his heart drop into this stomach. That was his fate – some horrific half-life caught between the moldering darkspawn taint and humanity. Stuck in a state of existence where death would be a blessing, a kindness. Looking at Marian, his heart broke. How could he do that to her? How could he stay with her. It was...unfair to her. 

Marian caught his eye, noticed his face, and gestured to Varric and Carver. “I think we'll take break here. I need to speak to Anders. Do you all mind if we step around the corner?”

“Just don't go too far, Sister. I don't trust this place. Or that man.”

“We won't Carver. I just need a few moments with Anders.” She offered Carver a smile and then dragged Anders around the corner and into a small alcove...cell. She narrowed her eyes at Anders, crossed her arms over her chest, and started tapping her foot. “Alright Anders. Out with it.”

Anders rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the bit of blood he found. “Look Marian. You know I love you, right?” He looked at her face and winced but soldiered on, “But that man? He's my future. And I just think...”

He wasn't allowed to finish. Marian had growled and pulled him towards her, into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. She shoved him, hard, against the wall of the cell and pressed him roughly back. She bruised his mouth, clutched his hair tightly in her hands and kissed him till they were both breathless. Then she gripped his face and stared into his eyes. “No Anders. I am not walking away from you. Do you understand? You are my everything. And I swear to you that you will never have to face that alone. Never. There is nothing you can say or do that will _ever,_ change how I feel about you. You would have to leave me...tell me to my face that you no longer love me and leave. And even then, _even then I would refuse to believe you_. Do you understand me? I love you. YOU.” She stepped back, her breathing uneven.

Anders stayed against the wall, his eyes wide and nearly fearful on her. What she had said, the words, the passion, it all reverberated in his head. Bounced around and collided with the small, black voice that kept repeating that this would never last, she would never stay, that this was all a mistake. Her words broke through and at that, at the sudden understanding that this woman loved him. Loved him so much she was willing to put up with...everything...he broke, sagged, curled in on himself to sob. She moved to him then and pulled him against her as they both dropped to the floor. Rocking him gently, she let him cry. She didn't speak again, and really, what could she say that hadn't just been said? She held him as he emptied himself of sadness. 

Eventually, gradually, the tears stopped. Only then did she move. Brushing his hair back, she tilted his head up so his eyes could meet hers, her warm, loving, beautiful eyes, and smiled at him. The kiss was gentle, forgiving. “I love you, Marian. I do. I know that...there will be times when I hurt you. But I swear to you, I love you.” She beamed at him. 

“I know, Anders. One day at a time, love. You have a lifetime of doubt, but you're worth it. Even if you do drive me crazy with your constant pushing.” She pressed another gentle kiss against his lips. “When we get home, I promise to show you just how much I love you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I think you owe me.” 

Anders' laugh was a little shaky. “I do, love. I really do." 

“Alright, let's get up and get going. Those demon...things...aren't going to kill themselves. The sooner we find this Corypheus fellow, the sooner we can leave. I'm feeling motivated all of a sudden.” She grinned when Anders chuckled a little and pulled him up and shoved him back towards Carver and Varric. She watched him rejoin the group and Varric slap his back. Even Carver offered him a bit of teasing. _Anything_ , she thought. _I'd forgive him for anything if he'd stay._


	39. Chapter 39

The voice sang to him. It sang about freedom and darkness, sickness and corruption. The song wove itself into every thought until all he could hear was the voice. The maddening, beautiful voice. Not even Justice could ignore it. The spirit lunged against Anders' mind like a beast in a cage. It rattled the bars holding him from gaining control, testing Anders' strength again and again. And through it all, the song continued. It whittled down Anders' control, chipped at his mind until it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other.

He feared then. He feared for himself and for Marian. She was pale, strained, wan with the stress of learning of her father's use of blood magic. Worn down by the unrelenting swarms of darkspawn. Weakened in the face of his own weakness. He trudged before the group, haggard and gaunt. And he feared that this would be the place where he fell. This would be where his strength gave out and he succumbed to Justice, succumbed to the taint, succumbed to the blackness that was growing deep inside of him.

They were spiraling up the side of the final spire. It was the deepest pit, the last seal, the place where they would make their stand. Each step, each blighted step, pushed him closer to the precipice of madness. The song swelled, grew so loud that all he could hear was it, all he could see was the beauty in the madness. And Justice struck, he lunged through Anders' mind and broke free of the constraints Anders had woven around that part of himself. Broke free maddened at the song, maddened by the taint and the unrelenting darkness. A spirit of Justice bound by blight sickness and the corrupting song of madness.

The group hadn't been expecting it. They could only fall back before his assault. And it was an assault, an all-out attack on people he knew and loved. He could only watch from a small corner of his mind as the shades were called, as Justice brought down flames to scorch at the group. Carver was thrown to the side, the first target of the Fade spirit's anger. Anders watched in horror as his head impacted on a boulder and the young man collapsed. Varric was next. Cornered by shades, hounded by Justice's power, his friend could only retreat and hide, hope that he could find an opening. And then Marian appeared. Her staff held before her, she was weeping, sobbing, calling his name even as she blocked the attacks. 

The knife in his side brought a bloom of needed pain. The pain let him grasp at something that wasn't madness, something not spirit or song, something rational in his crazed mind. He grabbed at the pain and shoved, hard, at Justice. He caged the spirit behind bars of self-control. And then she was there, her hands cradling him as she poured her limited healing magic into him. Her tears fell on his face as she brought him back from the brink, as she healed his body even as her presence guided him back to the group.

It wasn't a gift he would squander. He healed Carver and Varric. Apologized, only to have them tell him not to. Even Carver was just happy Anders had returned to them. So he healed them and they faced Corypheus. They faced what turned out to be a magister, one of the ones to corrupt the Golden City. They faced him and came out alive.

***

Anders lounged by the campfire, his eyes fixed on the stars overhead. It was always the same after being in the Deep Roads. The first thing he wanted to do was see the sky. He wanted to look up and see stars and the heavens, clouds and the moon. He wanted to feel the wind on his face. He had stripped down to just his pants, his feet and chest bare. He tilted his head back as the breeze blew and smiled at the smells of earth and campfire.

Marian crawled out of their tent and came to a stop. He was beautiful in the firelight, his hair loose and falling over his bare shoulders. She could see the lines of his scars in the flickering light and even they held a certain beauty on his body. His head tilted back, a look of serenity on his face. When his eyes opened, he saw her and his smile widened. 

“Hey there.” Wicked. His voice was wicked as his eyes took her in. “Like what you see?”

Marian flushed slightly and moved to settle down next to him. “I do, yes. What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the fresh air. I used to do this a lot when I was in the Wardens. Drove Eavan mad. Drove the entire camp mad, come to think of it. I was a bit...wild...back then. And we had a Warden who was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.” Anders grinned and sat up, stretched his arms over his head. He winked at her when he caught her watching him. “I'd sit by the fire like this and stretch and preen and Nathaniel would frown and harrumph.”

“Like Carver is doing?” They both swung their eyes to Carver's tent and the young man sitting outside of it. He was, indeed, frowning. 

“I'm not harrumphing. I just wish he'd put some clothes on.”

“You know, that's _exactly_ what Nathanial would say. And do you know what I would do when he'd get too grumpy about it?”

Marian bit her lip. “Pulled your pants off?” Carver flushed and covered his face with his hands. Anders burst out laughing, rolling on the ground as Carver turned bright red. Marian giggled. “You didn't. Oh you horrible tease. What did Eaven do?”

“She'd roll her eyes and tell us to both grow up. But you could see it, the little smile on her lips. And if Sigrun was there, well, there would be commentary and perhaps even some egging on. I've done many, er, well...” his voice petered out and he looked embarrassed.

“Oh, don't stop now. You have to tell me.”

Anders flushed. “Anders’ Spicy Shimmy...er. I was young. And very silly.”

Marian glanced over at Carver and saw that, like her, his face was a mixture of curiosity and dread. “Dare I ask for a demonstration?”

“Well...” Anders scratched at his chin. “It's been a while. And...ahh...I usually get drunk first.”

“If you aren't going to shimmy then maybe you can tell me what the electricity trick is, then. Isabela keeps asking me if you've shown me and I'm curious.”

Anders coughed at that, doubled-over and grabbed at his chest. “Not with your brother sitting out here.”  
“Why would Carver...oh...it's that...well, now I feel like Merrill. She was asking about it too and Isabela was laughing...” Marian's face flamed red.

“Tell you what. We get home and I'll show you the electricity trick. As many times as you want.” He waggled his eyebrows at Marian and pulled her to him. “Unless Carver wants a show...”

“Maker! Where is Varric? Varric! Get your hairy ass out here before I go blind!”

Anders and Marian burst out laughing. Carver glared at them for a moment and then chuckled. When Varric came out of his tent it was to find the three of them laughing and smiling. It made him smile. Made him glad they were heading home on a high note.

***

Kirkwall. Home. Home with her mother, with Bodahn and Sandal, with Orana, with Dodger. Home, too, with her brother. For once, they sat in the library and relaxed. Her mother sat with them and listened as they told the story of Papa and blood magic and the prison. Marian watched her mother's eyes grow sad, then angry, then happy as she looked at her and Carver.

“Your father would be so proud of you two. You put aside your differences to work together. That's all he ever wanted.”

“I'm sorry, Mother. Sorry about what we found.”

Leandra sighed. “Malcolm was never one to worry me. And if he thought it was necessary, then it was necessary. He was a good man, a good father...a good mage. You are so like him, Marian. And you, Carver. Always trying to find the right way to go in life. .” She looked back and saw Anders standing at the door and gestured to him. “Come in, Anders. You're as much family as they are.”

He hesitated a moment and then joined then, moving Marian to sit and pull her onto his lap. He glanced at Carver but relaxed when Carver just nodded. “I didn't want to intrude.”

“You aren't. We're just...remembering. It's good do that sometimes. Good to look back, to remind ourselves of what we've lost. It makes what we have that much more precious. And that includes you, Anders.” Leandra smiled at him. “Malcolm would have approved of you. I'm glad you're here. Marian...she needs you.” 

Carver stood. “I had better get back to the Gallows. I still need to report in.”

Marian stood and went to him. “Thank you for coming with me, Carver. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you. I love you.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressed herself against his templar armor. It wasn't hated, not on Carver. It just was.

Carver looked down at Marian and smiled slightly and returned her hug, picking her up to squeeze her. Then he moved to Anders and offered him his hand. “I know I've said things in the past, Anders. Mean and cruel things. And even though I know we won't always see eye to eye, I'm glad Marian isn't alone.” 

Anders looked at Carver's hand and then at the young man. After tonight, they would probably go back to hating each other. But, Anders thought, family doesn't always have to get along. He was learning that from Marian. They just have to love each other and stand by each other. He took Carver's hand in his and shook it, nodded. “I'll keep her safe, Carver. I swear it on my life.”

Carver looked at him with solemn eyes and then he smiled. “Well, I'm going to stop by Merrill's and then head back to the Gallows. Perhaps...perhaps one night I can have dinner here and we invite her?”

Marian beamed. “That sounds lovely.” She watched her brother hug her mother and walk out. It had, she thought, been worth it. The trip, the Carta, everything. It had been worth it because she had her brother back.


	40. Chapter 40

Life settled back to normal, or at least as normal as it got in Kirkwall. Varric had taken their trip and turned it into a new adventure story. Carver had come to dinner and brought Merrill. It had been a rousingly fun dinner with lots of laughter. The Hawke household had reached a high point. For the first time in a long time, the family was happy.

Marian had returned to taking the odd jobs Kirkwall seemed to always have available. They had taken care of some bandits for Aveline and memorably, visited the fade to save the young man who had been sent to the Dalish. She split her time between the clinic, her jobs, and attending societal functions with her mother. It was busy, it was fun, and for a little while, life was good.

And then one day she came home to find her Uncle interrogating Sandal. Gamlen had always been a touch on the harsh side, but he was practically shaking the poor man. Mother had gone missing and had not left any note or word. The only clue was a vase of flowers…white lilies…the fragrance wafting through the entryway to taunt Marian.

White lilies. The calling card of the murderer she had been hunting for Emeric. The murderer who took women and left little bags of nothing but bones. Surely, Marian’s mind had begged, surely this wasn’t what had happened to Mother. Surely they would find her safe, laughing at their distress. Surely this was all a terrible mistake, a dream…a nightmare…a fade walk gone wrong. A demon enticement. Surely this wasn’t reality.

Those words reverberated in her mind as she raced through the city, as she spoke to a child who had seen her mother, as she followed a trail of tacky blood back to the same foundry that had been searched by her own hands and eyes. Those words kept repeating themselves as she found the trap door that had been hidden until now, when she found the basement full of shades, found the corpse of the noblewoman, found the shrine and books on necromantic arts. They kept repeating until she found her mother…her mother. Her beautiful, laughing mother. Her reason for even coming to this city, for going to the Deep Roads, her anchor to Papa, to Bethany, to Carver, to Lothering. Her mother…a reanimated corpse. The last piece needed by a madman to recreate his dead wife.

She didn’t remember the fight. She didn’t remember the shades or demons. She didn’t remember screaming and running at the mage with a dagger drawn, her magic thrown aside in her need to physically stop the madman. She didn’t remember catching her mother’s shambling corpse, of holding her. All she could see were her mother’s eyes staring into hers as the light slowly left them and the realization that for all of her vaunted heroic deeds, Marian Hawke had been unable to save anybody who really mattered to her. Not Papa, not Bethany, and not her mother.

***

He found her in their bedroom sitting on their bed. Dodger was curled at her feet, his worried eyes focused only on her. Anders sat down next to her and took one of her cold hands in his. For once, she didn’t smile at him. Her eyes were dead, her skin ashen, hair limp. There was no life in her, no warmth, no joy. Nothing but emptiness and grief. Anders looked down at her and saw Eavan then, the chasm of hated self-loathing that had separated his Commander from everyone else. He saw that chasm in Marian, saw it had grown wide and deep. She wasn’t crying, wasn’t outwardly grieving. She just…was…and Anders feared that if he couldn’t reach her she would stay behind that chasm forever.

“Marian…love…” he watched her eyes focus on him but not warm. “There are no words that I can say that can…even begin to express how sorry I am. I didn’t know her for very long, but your mother was nothing but kindness to me.” He watched her nod, watched her accept his condolences like she had accepted everyone elses. “I want you to know that I am here. Always here. For your anger, your pain, your tears…whatever you need Marian. I am here for you. I love you.”

He watched her draw herself up at that, suck in a breath of air and let it out slowly. “I failed her.” The words were so emphatic that his heart bled.

“I suppose we all failed her.” He watched her physically recoil from his statement, as if he had slapped her across the face. “Aveline’s guards should have been better. We should have looked harder. Emeric should have pushed more. We all failed her, Marian. We failed all of those women.”

Marian sucked on her lower lip and screwed her eyes shut. Her hands balled into fists as she shook, trembled with the effort of holding it all in. For a moment, she sat there shaking, and then she was screaming in rage and pain, her fists beating at the bed and then at him as he turned her and tugged her against him. “I want her to be here. I want…I want my mother. _I promised papa! I PROMISED HIM I’D KEEP HER SAFE!_ ” She broke then, her sobs harsh and raw. He held her, rocked her, as she wailed out her grief. He held her when she finally passed out from exhaustion. In the morning, when she woke stiff and sore from the stress of her loss, he was still holding her.

***

_“We buried my Mother today. Sebastian had the Chantry carve her name on the Remembrance Wall with Bethany and Papa’s names. Carver came. He looked so handsome in his uniform and for once that stupid templar outfit didn't make me want to hit him. He sat with me. I had worried he would blame me but…he didn’t. He held my hand as they sang the Chant. I gave the eulogy, tried to tell everyone how much Mother had given up for us. But of course, I couldn’t tell everything. I couldn’t tell them how she had loved Papa so much she was willing to leave Kirkwall. I couldn’t tell them how happy she had been the first time I cast a spell successfully. I couldn’t tell them how her face looked when her and Papa danced under the moon, how she loved blackberries and cream, how she always had a little jar of salve in her satchel for scraped knees and a piece of candy for when we were good. These people…they didn’t know Mother. And now she’s buried here. Far from Papa. Will he find her in the Fade? Will Bethany? They are in Ferelden and we are here, in Kirkwall._

_The house is so empty. The neighbors came by to visit. I hated it. They all sat around and asked pointed questions about if I would marry and what my plans were. If Aveline hadn’t been here, I would have thrown them out. She says maybe I should go through Mother’s things, donate some of the stuff, but I can’t. Not yet. I’ve locked her bedroom door. I can’t bear to see it. One day, maybe, I’ll go in there and clean it out. Probably on the day I sell the estate._

_Anders is worried for me. I’ve lost weight and I’m not sleeping. I keep seeing Mother’s face, her eyes slowly dying as she held my hand. I keep hearing her tell me it wasn’t my fault. That she loves me. But…it is my fault. And I’ll have to live with that like I live with Papa and Bethany. I won’t fail Anders like I failed them. I won’t fail anybody else like that again._

_I miss her.”_

Marian patted the ink dry and slowly closed her journal. She sat there mired in grief and guilt until she felt his hand on her shoulder, smelled his scent. She let Anders pull her up and into his arms, let him comfort her. Let him be the strong one for once. She clung to him and promised over and over that she would always be there for him. Forever.


	41. Chapter 41

Anders hadn’t been to his clinic in two weeks. He hadn’t wanted to leave Marian alone and she had refused to leave the house. Finally, after watching her ghost from room to room, not eat, and barely sleep he put his foot down. They were going to down to the clinic and she was going to help. Anders was a healer. He knew that sometimes it took a while for a wound to start healing. But eventually, healing needed to happen or the wound festered and started destroying the surrounding tissue. He worried Marian would allow this grief to fester until she was bitter. It was time for the healing to begin.

She had resisted and they had argued. The argument had been…terrible. She had pushed herself into his face and screamed, had slammed her fists against the wall until her knuckles had bruised. She had called him names, threw things, and finally just collapsed in a heap and wailed. Anders had just stood there through all of it, unsure of when to step in. The moment she hit the floor, though, he went to her. Curled on the floor of their bedroom, he held her until her tears dried and she was hiccuping. 

“Marian, love,” he cupped her hands in his and healed the bruises and cuts, “It's time to start living again.”

“I...I can't. I can't stop seeing her lying there. I keep wishing I could go back and...do something. Be faster. Better. I could have been better. Should have been better.”

“Marian Hawke, how do you think your mother would feel hearing you say that?” Anders gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Do you think she'd want you sitting in this house languishing?”

She stiffened. “No. No she would have hated my attitude. She would have...hated this. She always wanted me to be strong.”

“You don't need to carry this alone, Marian. I'm here. Let me help you. Let me be with you. Let me...just let me back in.”

“Alright,” she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “Alright. I'll try...”

“That's all I'm asking.”

***

The clinic was slow to fill, but once word got around that Hawke was there a crowd showed up. Most were there to see her, to offer condolences, to press her hand or offer a hug. Even Carta members...rough looking dwarves, haggard elves, men who worked in the mines...they all paid a brief visit.

She was beside herself with amazement. It was a reality check and one that she had needed. Her life wasn't roses, but it was better than what any of these people had. And her mother...her dear, sweet, beautiful mother wouldn't have wanted her to hide in Hightown. She had loved Anders, loved his work, loved that Marian had found something to take her away from the odd jobs. And her Papa would have approved. 

So she healed, she made potions, accepted hugs, and talked. She held children as Anders checked them for illness, soothed pregnant women, and joked with the men. And through it all, Anders sent her beaming looks. Every opportunity he had, he brushed her hand with his, bumped her hip, tugged her hair, or teased her. Anything to remind her that life continued, that there was still good to be done.

She was tired, but pleasantly so, by the time they closed the clinic. Not tired enough to go straight home and to bed. No, she decided it was high time she saw her friends. Anders glanced at his reading room and then poked Justice. Marian wanted to go out. Their writing could wait.

***

The Hanged Man was full, as usual. A quick look around didn’t reveal their friends so they headed to Varric’s rooms. Marian took Anders’ hand in hers and squeezed. For a moment he was reminded of the evening after their first night together. They had stood in this exact spot as they held hands, a united force against the craziness of their companions. Now, he moved to stand in front of Marian, a source of strength before facing everybody.

The group was being pretty quiet, all things considering. Everybody was at the table, even Sabastian, and they weren’t playing cards. Instead they were drinking and throwing out suggestions on how to best lure Hawke from her home. Merrill had just finished suggesting a trip to Mount Sundermount, a suggestion that had Fenris grimacing, when Anders and Marian stepped in. The group stopped talking, all eyes swiveling to face the couple.

“Oh! Lethallan! We were just speaking of you!” Merrill leapt from her seat and ran to Marian, throwing herself into Marian’s arms. “I have been so worried for you. It is so good that you are here.”

Marian met Anders’ eyes over Merrill’s head, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Merrill squeezed Marian tightly again before smiling up into her face. “ _Ir abelas, ma vhenan_. My heart, it bleeds at your loss.” Slender fingers slid over Marian’s cheeks and Merrill’s eyes also filled with tears. “She will be remembered.” 

Marian stood stock still for a moment and then crumpled against Merrill, sobbing softly against her friend. Merrill stroked her hair and looked at the group with sad eyes. Slowly, everybody stood and moved to them. Marian felt herself turned and pulled into another hug, Sebastian this time. He murmured against her hair, snippets of the Chant, soft words of loss and hope. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then moved out of the way.

Strong arms wrapped around her, tentative and gentle. Fenris patted her back awkwardly, his eyes pleading with her. “I am so sorry I could not…that we could not…Hawke.” His voice ran dry and he stiffened as she hugged him tightly. “I am sorry.” He said again, his voice whisper soft against her hair. 

Isabela pried her away, enveloped her in warmth and the briny smell of the sea. For once no laughter rang, no hands teasingly pinched or caressed. She cradled Marian against her and shushed her like a mother does a child. “We’ve missed you,” was all she said. She squeezed her tightly and then sent a look over her shoulder at somebody.

Aveline cleared her throat and nudged Isabela out of the way. She muttered a half-hearted _hussy_ under her breath and then wrapped Marian up. For a moment, they clung to each other. Aveline sniffled against Marian’s hair. “I miss her too. She was…she was more mother to me than I can remember having, Hawke.” Marian nodded, smiled a soggy smile and pressed a kiss to Aveline’s cheek.

“You were her other daughter, you know.” Aveline nodded and wiped at her eyes. She patted Marian’s cheek and moved for Varric. Marian looked down at the dwarf and sank to her knees and pressed her face against his shoulder.

“Hawke,” his voice was creaky, stiff from emotion. For once, Varric was speechless. Instead, he patted at Hawke and then sighed, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. “Missed you,” he finally said. “I missed you.”

Anders moved to help her up and she turned to hug him. A giggle broke from her and the group started in shock. “You all and your hugs. I swear, we’re the cuddliest bunch of bastards in Kirkwall.” Varric blinked and then let out a shout of laughter. Marian’s shoulders shook as she started to laugh. The rest of the group watched the two of them, and then collectively shook their heads.

She wiped her face and smiled at the group. “Well, I suppose…I suppose we should get drinks and celebrate. In honor of my mother, Leandra Amell Hawke. She’d be scandalized that we are holding her wake in a tavern. My Papa would be highly amused. Varric…break out the good stuff. I’m not drinking to my mother with the swill they serve here.”

Sitting around the table, a glass of Varric’s best whiskey in hand, Marian listened as the group told stories of her mother. She smiled when Anders started telling of how he was welcomed to the family. Merrill told about their last dinner when Carver visited. Sebastian praised Leandra for her charity to the Chantry. Fenris admitted that he had been a little afraid of her, a fact that had the group laughing. Aveline reminisced about their trip from Lothering. And Varric, Varric smiled and wrote it all down to compile into a new tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas, ma vhenan:(eer-ah-be-las ma ve-nan): "I am filled with sorrow for your loss, my heart."


	42. Chapter 42

Anders was not one hundred percent sure of what he had gotten himself into. He was on the Wounded Coast with Marian, Dodger, Merrill, Isabela, Varric, and Fenris. Judging by Fenris' face, the elf wasn't sure about the entire trip either. They were setting up camp near the shore, and the women were in high spirits. The men were…worried.

Marian had declared that she had needed a fun afternoon. Anders had been all for fun until Marian had told him she hadn't meant in bed and instead meant an afternoon at the shore. Discussion in Varric's suite had resulted in Merrill overhearing and claiming to know a good spot to swim. It had snowballed after that and the entire group, minus Aveline and Sebastian, had congregated at the Hawke estate with camping gear.

And now they were on the coast. Tents had been erected and a fire pit had been dug. Marian was now pensively staring at the water and listening to Merrill. "No worrying, Lethallan, the water here is mostly shallow. And the current is gentle."

Marian's forehead furrowed briefly as she thought. She gazed up at the sun and seemed to make up her mind about something. She threw a cheeky grin over her shoulder at him, chucked off her robe, and went pelting towards the water in just her smalls. Anders' eyes widened at the sight, his face splitting into an amused grin as she hit the water with a loud “Wahoo!” His amusement increased when Dodger ran past him and tackled Marian with a gleeful howl.

Before long, all three women were frolicking in the water. Anders found himself sharing space on a rock with Varric and Fenris, the three of them actively trying to avoid the water. "Not going in?" He inquired of the other two.

"Hah. I came out here as a favor to Hawke. Dwarves don't swim." Varric recoiled physically from the thought of swimming.

"I, ah, don't really know how to swim..." Fenris mumbled."What about you?"

"Oh. Well...swimming was one way I escaped the tower...but...ah, it's been a while." Anders' fidgeted slightly.

About that time, Marian came sloshing up to them. Varric and Fenris worked to avert their eyes while Anders watched her in great appreciation, his eyes traveling over her wet and clingy smalls. "You three are coming in, right" her voice wheedled."Please, Anders? I want to go swimming with you."

"Oh...ah...I don't know..." Anders glanced at Varric and back to Marian. "I mean...do you really want me to?"

Marian tugged lightly on his arm, her face happy. He hadn't seen her make that face in weeks, since before Leandra's murder. If swimming would keep her smiling then by the Maker he would go swimming. He stood and removed his coat and boots, smiling slightly at her excited clapping. His hands hesitated for a moment on his shirt, aware of eyes on him watching him remove clothing. He gave a sigh and tugged off his shirt and pants, angling himself so that his back was to the tents. Marian gave him an encouraging look and he worked to not hunch his shoulders. Offering him her hand, Marian beamed. With a slight shake of his head, Anders allowed himself to be led to the water.

He heard Fenris' slight intake of breath and Varric's low murmur when they caught sight of his back. Marian squeezed his hand and tugged him further into the water. He eased in step by step and then slowly pushed off into the deeper current. For a moment, his mind rebelled and he saw himself slipping up the bank of Lake Calenhad, skin blue and teeth chattering. He had never made a fire those first few nights on the run, afraid of being caught too quickly. Long sleepless nights only broken up by the few kind farmers who would offer him space in their barn. He shivered, feeling not the warmth of the coastal waters but the frigid currents of the lake and the feeling of armored fists hitting him when the templars inevitably found him.

He returned to himself slowly, his eyes alighting on Marian's. She was gently stroking his cheek and whispering his name as they treaded water. "I'm sorry. I...had a flashback. To the Circle. I used to swim the lake to get away..." he swallowed and tried to smile, feeling the grimace.

"I should have thought of that. Oh Anders, I'm sorry." She pulled him to her and hugged him close.

Her body was warm against his and anchored him to the now. Hearing Isabela and Merrill laughing, holding Marian, watching Dodger paddle happily...it was a gift of friendship, love, and happy memories. Better memories to replace the ones thrust upon him by the Chantry.

That helped him relax, helped him find his center and start to have fun. Isabela coaxed Fenris into the shallow water to splash a bit. Varric was persuaded to get his feet wet. Dodger ran crazy around the group, snagging Merrill into a game of fetch. Later, the group sat around the fire and listened to Varric spin tales. Then Isabela broke out the cards. Anders laughed a bit, his soul surprisingly light from the day. 

That night, curled around each other in their tent, Anders pressed soft kisses over Marian's face. "Thank you, love."

Marian touched Ander's lips with a fingertip. "I should be thanking you."

His eyes watched her intently, "This...you...bring so much joy to my life. I don't know what I did to deserve it. You take memories that are terrible and replace them with such...happiness. Even now you do that, even when you are mourning. Why? How?"

"Anders, you do the same for me. That's love. And I love you."

He wrapped her in his arms, cuddling her close. "I love you, too. My miracle. My joy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by my vacation in the Keys. Who wouldn't want a day at the shore?


	43. Chapter 43

_Poor Varric,_ was what was running through Marian’s mind. _Poor Varric and Bartrand, though he is still a rat bastard for leaving us in the Deep Roads._ Her eyes cut over to Anders’, sorrow and pity mirrored on his face. “Can you do anything, Anders? Anything?”

He summoned his healing abilities, sliced his hands through the air, and poured his power into the addled dwarf. Bartrand shuddered and let out a yell as the healing power sluiced through him. Anders slumped slightly, gripping at Marian’s shoulder for support. “That’s…that’s all I got. It’ll help him for a little bit but it isn’t permanent. Whatever that statue was, whatever was contained in it, it has permanently warped him. If he wasn’t a dwarf I’d say he was possessed.”

“Varric? Is that you? What the…Maker. The things I’ve done, I’ve seen. Varric, you have to help me. You have to _stop me_ before I ruin us, ruin our name. Please brother…please. Don’t let me be the one that brings down the Tethras legacy.” Bartrand broke down into tears, his hands clutching at Varric’s jacket.

Marian patted Anders hand, “It’s more than we had before. Thank you. Varric…Varric sweetie. What do you want us to do?”

Varric ran a shaking hand over his face, his eyes tracking his brother’s movements as he began to pace. “I should take him home, get him some help. I…I almost wish Blondie hadn’t been here. It would have been so much easier. But…thank you.”

“Anytime, Varric. You know that.”

***

Hours later, Bartrand secured with people Varric could trust and the mansion locked, Marian led her group back through Hightown. “I know you want to go back to the Hanged Man Varric, but I really think you should come home with us. Let me help you.”

“Now Hawke, you know I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I have Bianca…what more do I need?”

Marian came to a stop, slipping to her knees to better look Varric in the eye. “I know you are capable of handling yourself, Varric. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I won’t be. I’ll be at the Hanged Man.” Varric jutted out his chin stubbornly.

Anders reached down at helped Marian up. “Then we will go with you,” he said simply.

***

Anders leaned back in his chair and craned his neck around the small partition to see Marian curled up in Varric’s bed asleep. He smiled to himself as he watched her small fingers flex, her mouth purse. His lover was dreaming and it looked pleasant, a happy change of pace from her nightmares that had plagued her since her mother’s murder. He turned his head to see Varric slumped in his chair.

The dwarf had lost his bluster once they had reached the Hanged Man. He had tried to keep up the charade that all was ok, but Marian refused to believe him. She had sat with him till early morning, till the sun had started to peak over the city, and then had fallen asleep. Anders had moved her to Varric’s bed and returned to sit with his friend.

“Varric. You should get some sleep.” Anders stretched slightly and frowned at his empty cup. “You need to rest.”

Varric snorted. “You’re one to talk. How often do you get a full night’s sleep, eh Blondie?” 

“More often than you think, Varric. She won’t let me work myself into a frenzy anymore. We try, the Maker knows Justice pushes at me to work at all hours of the night, but when Marian comes into the room Justice quiets and lets me rest.”

“I’m fine Anders, fine.”

Now it was Anders’ turn to snort. “Varric, I know grief when I see grief. She does too, more intimately than I would ever wish for her. She kept it together for all of us when we hit that wall, had to deal with something life changing or horrific. And when Leandra…” Anders had to stop talking for a moment, had to struggle to keep in his own grief at the loss of a woman who had been a mother to him too, “when Leandra was killed…she didn’t know how to let herself grieve. She doesn’t want you to have to go through that. And neither do I. Go rest, Varric. Let yourself go for a bit.”

Varric deflated, his hands covering his face. Slowly he stood and moved to the bed, his walk jerky. Anders nodded to him once as he crawled onto his bed. His movement disturbed Marian, woke her from her sleep. She lifted her head and saw Varric, saw that he lay stiffly next to her. Ignoring his pained expression, she scooted over to him and curled up against his side. Arms wrapped around Varric, cuddling him close, she blew out a breath and relaxed back into slumber. 

Lying stiffly in the circle of Marian’s arms, Varric tried to relax. Marian let out a sleepy murmur and cuddled closer, mumbling “sleep Varric,” against his hair. Her lips curved when she felt Anders slip into bed behind her. “We have you.” It was that sleepy acceptance, that assurance that he wasn’t alone, that finally allowed him to return the embrace and drift off to sleep.

They stayed that way through the day, a tangle of arms and legs and gentle snores on Varric’s big bed. They were still snoozing when Isabela and Merrill came up in the afternoon, the two women finding Marian wrapped in Anders arms and cuddling Varric to her chest. Merrill opened her mouth to say something, to ask a question, and Isabela shook her head at the little elf. She had heard about Bartrand and had wondered what kind of condition she would find her friend in. Seeing him sleeping soundly against Marian made her feel better. Still, she made a note to tease the three of them about not inviting her to the cuddle party. With a final look at the group, she ushered Merrill out and firmly closed Varric’s door behind her.


	44. Chapter 44

Sometime between waking up wrapped in Anders arms and cuddling Varric like a teddy bear and this very moment, life had turned deeply wrong. So very wrong. Saemus was dead. The Viscount’s son was dead at the hands of that bitch of a Chantry Mother, Petrice. Petrice was dead at the hands of the Qunari. The city of Kirkwall was overrun. Isabela was gone. And the Arishok had killed the Viscount.

And now she was stuck staring into the Arishok’s eyes and wondering just how she would get out of this situation. The nobles behind her were sobbing fearfully. She could feel the anger working off of Anders, Fenris and Varric. It bolstered her and she used their anger and the nobles’ fears to jut her chin stubbornly and stare into the Arishok’s eyes. “Even if Isabela brought back your book, I would never give her to you. Never.”

The Arishok opened his mouth to respond, his finger jabbing into the air, when Isabela sauntered in. “Hawke, what are you going on about?”

“Isabela…you came back? Why?” Marian gripped the pirate’s hand tightly and tugged her into a hug. “Dear Maker, why?”

“Because I am a glutton for punishment, apparently. Oh sweet thing, let me go. I have to give this dusty old book back to these gentlemen.”

“What about Castillon? He’ll kill you!”

“Yes, well, he’ll just have to get in line, won’t he? Here’s your book of Koslun, and not even scratched. You can leave her be. Take it and go home.”

The Arishok gestured to one of his guard to take the book. “I accept the Tome of Koslun, thief. Now that I have retrieved this, I may return to my people. And she will be coming with me.” The Arishok’s finger moved to point at Isabela. Marian’s eyes turned cold and she stepped in front of her friend.

“You have your book. Leave. She stays here.”

“Unacceptable. She stole from us. She is filth and must be taken back for punishment.”

“She redeemed herself by coming back, by returning your property. Leave. She stays here.” Marian slammed her staff into the ground and glowered.

The Arishok regarded Marian with a critical eye. Scratching at his chin, he nodded. “You are worthy to challenge me, Basalit-an. Face me in combat and win and she goes free. We will leave with the book. Lose and your life and hers is forfeit.”

“Hawke, no. Let me fight him. You don’t need to do this on my account.” Isabela turned frantic eyes to Marian. “I made the mistake. It’s mine to own.”

“You are not worthy of such distinction, filth. Either Hawke fights me or we leave now…with you.” The Arishok stood and pulled out his sword. Marian eyed the sword with some misgivings, tightening her grip on her staff. “Do we fight or no?”

She could feel Anders willing her to say no. She could feel Fenris tensing behind her, ready to pull her from the front. Isabela stared at her with wide, scared eyes. If she said no, she would be consigning her friend to death. If she said yes, she would have to fight the scariest man she’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. The Viscount lay dead. His son was dead. All because her friend had stolen a book…stolen a book to save her life because she had released slaves…Ferelden slaves…Marian felt Anders fear behind her even as she looked into the Arishok’s face and said “Yes. I will fight you.”

***

_“Dammit! I said hold your hand here. Press down! Harder! She’s convulsing…get me more potions!”_

_“Why did she do this? Why? I’m not worth all this! Oh Maker, she’s so pale…”_

_“Did you see it when she slapped the Arishok upside the head with her staff? It was…amazing. Dodger hounding him, her lightning flaring around them, and she just…smacked his head with her staff…”_

_“Ok…ok…she’s stable. She’s fine. Fenris, can you move her? We need to get her back to the mansion. I’ve splinted her arm and wrapped her ribs. She’ll hate herself when she wakes up.”_

_“How did she take him down with just the one arm? Don’t you need two to cast?”_

The voices slithered in and out of her consciousness. She remembered that blighted sword slicing into her side. That man could hit, too. He had punched her shoulder and broken her arm. She remembered smacking her staff into the Arishok’s head to get him off of her. He hadn’t liked that at all. It had been a close fight, closer than she wanted to remember. So close that she had been bleeding out when she finally hit the Arishok with enough electricity to fry his heart, to make his horns smoke. She remembered falling and Anders’ screams and then the voices.

***

He watched her eyes flutter open, her gaze unfocused and confused. His lover, his friend, his life, his joy and sorrow and reason for laughing and crying – he watched her slowly wake from the healing sleep he had put her in. She was swathed in bandages, nearly covered from her waist to her neck. He hadn’t been able to take all of her wounds, hadn’t been able to restore her completely to what she had been before. There would be scars: a long jagged one at her side, a jumbled tear on her shoulder, a gouge just above her stomach. Scars that he wished he could erase, that shouldn’t exist on her.

Her eyes finally focused on his face and she smiled with relief. “Anders.” She breathed his name. He went to her, sat on the bed and wrapped one of her hands in his. His magic pulsed and he sent soothing, healing light through her to make sure everything was still ok. She had been bleeding internally, her lungs collapsing, her spleen crushed, her heart bruised. She had been concussed, had nearly bled out, had convulsed as her body fought his healing. But he had brought her back and seeing her awake, seeing her alive, something in him gave out. 

He dropped his head to her uninjured shoulder and pressed his forehead into her. His tears scalded his face, ran down his cheeks and dripped onto her skin. He had almost lost her, his heart had almost been torn from him. “Marian…” his voice was thick, sodden with his fear. “Maker Marian. I thought…I thought I had lost you.” The dam broke and he sobbed against her, carefully gathered her up and cradled her against his chest. 

She made soft noises, her good hand brushing over his hair awkwardly as he drenched her in his pain. His sobs quieted slowly, turning into hiccups and sniffles. “I’m sorry Anders. I couldn’t let Isabela be taken. I’m sorry.” And he knew that had the tables been turned, had it been his decision, he would have let Isabela go.

“You are the most infuriating, stubborn, kind-hearted, compassionate, giving, loving person I have ever known, Marian.”

“I’m sorry, Anders.”

His chuckle ended in a sob. “How can I stay mad at you? Don’t apologize. You were just being yourself.”

“Have I been out long?” 

“A week, Marian. I kept you asleep for a week. I wanted to go longer but I knew you would be mad if I did. Your arm is still healing, as is your shoulder. Your ribs should be almost better. I couldn’t…there are scars.” 

She slid her hand into his hair and massaged his scalp. “I’m sure I’ll be morose over them later. But for now I’m just grateful to be here with you. I’m just happy to be alive and with you.”


	45. Chapter 45

She was finally able to sit up in bed, a fact that had Marian grateful and less cranky than she had been the last week or so. Anders had been a tyrant. If she so much as twitched too much he put her into a healing sleep. No amount of snapping and growling on her part influenced him. He would just cross his arms over his chest and look at her with bruised eyes, would mutter that she was killing him faster than the taint and Justice combined, and she’d cave and quiet. Then he would stroke her hair and hold her.

So sitting up was glorious. It meant she could read, she could feed herself, and perhaps even be carried to the library. She currently had Sunshine on her lap and Dodger at her feet, a book to one side and a cup of tea on her nightstand. The door to her bedroom slowly opened and she looked up from the cat to see Isabela slipping into the room. “Izzy! Hi!” 

Isabela stopped just inside of the room and took her in, her bandages and still-bruised face. Marian had never seen her look so…sick…before. “Hawke…you’re up. Anders said you might be but…” She looked a little lost for a moment.

Marian patted the bed and gave her an encouraging look, “Come over here. I don’t remember you visiting me before. Anders tends to knock me out when I get too…rambunctious. So I don’t remember a lot of the last week.”

Isabela slowly made her way to the bed and perched next to Marian. She ran a finger over Sunshine’s head and then looked away, “Why did you do it?”

“Do what? I’m lost here. What did I do?” Marian shooed the cat off her lap and took one of Isabela’s hands.

“Are you kidding me? No wonder he’s been keeping you unconscious. Why did you fight the Arishok? Why not simply let him take me? I would have escaped. I would have been fine. But this…now I owe you…I don’t…” Isabela tugged at her hand in distress. “Why Marian?”

The use of her first name had Marian tugging Isabela closer. “You’re my friend and I love you, Izzy. Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have let the Arishok take you. Just like I wouldn’t let Hadrianna have Fenris. And you don’t owe me anything. You were there for me after Mother…well…you were there for me. It’s what friends do, right?”

Isabela turned and knelt on the bed, wrapped her hands gently around Marian’s shoulders and looked her full in the face, “No Hawke. I don’t know of any friend who would risk their life for mine.”

Marian blinked, “Sure you do. You know me.” Using her good hand, she cupped the back of Isabela’s neck and drew her closer to place a kiss on each cheek and then a soft one on her lips. Isabela sobbed once and then rested her head on Marian’s shoulder. “Shh, hey…Izzy…it’s ok. I’m fine. Anders is fixing me right up. I’m fine. Oh Maker, shhh sweetie.” She patted Isabela’s back awkwardly while the pirate sobbed against her. 

Anders came up later to find Marian reading and Isabela curled up next to her and asleep. Marian looked up as he walked into the room and held a finger to her lips and then pointed at the sleeping woman. Anders quirked his head at the two of them and then went to get a blanket to lay over Isabela. Marian smiled at his caretaking, giggling softly when he tapped her nose and checked her with a healing spell. He gave her a look and then settled down in the chair next to the bed, pulled out some papers, and started scribbling.

***

“And then she looked down at you, Hawke, and declared you to be the Champion of Kirkwall. I think you waved a bit and then passed out from blood loss. Blondie nearly ran her over in his haste to get to you. I have to say I was impressed; Blondie completely ignored the fact that the Knight Commander was in the room as he started casting healing spells.”

Marian raised an eyebrow at Anders as Varric talked. “What?” was all she got from him, “If she wanted to fight she could do it after you were healed.”

Varric shot Anders a look and continued, “Izzy here helped distract her by getting into her face about getting you medical attention. Then the nobles started in on it. You had saved their collective bacon, you know. Stood up to the Arishok, refused to turn over one of us to them, oh yeah, they were singing your praises.”

“I bet that’s the only reason why I’m not in the Gallows now,” murmured Marian. She heard Anders make a distressed noise and reached for his hand. “She caught me casting, she called me apostate. She had to have noticed the scorch marks on the Arishok.”

“Yeah, well, what could she do? Every member of the nobility here in Kirkwall saw you fry the Arishok. They all know you’re an apostate and they’re willing to overlook it because you took him down in combat. Once she declared you Champion, she tied her own hands. You should have seen the realization on her face.” Varric barked a laugh. “She had to march all those templars back out. Oddly enough, the Knight-Captain came over to offer his aid.” Varric glanced over at Anders. “Blondie here nearly took his head off.”

“Blighted templars,” muttered Anders. “They will not have her.” He flashed blue for a moment and the group watched as he struggled with himself. Marian pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand and he settled, his eyes slowly returning to their normal whiskey brown. “Sorry. Just the thought gets us riled.”

Marian shot a glance at Varric, “He’d drown the city in blood to save me.” She waggled her eyebrows at Varric, “It’s all very romantic.” Varric pulled out his little book to write that down and Marian watched as Anders started to argue with him. “Anyway…so I’m a Champion now? I suppose it fits with my nifty new scars.”

Izzy perked up, “You have scars? Can I see them?”

“Maker!” muttered Anders, first at Isabela and then at Marian as she tugged up her tunic to show off the one on her side and stomach. “Pull down your clothes…Andraste’s tits Izzy, don’t touch her. She’s mine.”

Marian giggled as the pirate’s fingers tickled along her side. “Very nice. Both of them.” She sobered. “You got them because of me.”

“I got them because that horrible man smacked me with his sword when I zigged instead of zagged. Stop blaming yourself.”

Isabela pursed her lips and then started grinning. “Well, to make it up to you I’m going to go shopping. For you. I happen to know the most amazing little boutique that makes these negligees that will make Anders’ brain fry…”

Marian watched Isabela jump from her chair. She got a grope and an open mouthed kiss before Isabela was sauntering from the room. She turned her eyes to Anders, her mouth quirking into a grin, “Well then. I suppose I’ll just…let her go. I hope she doesn’t get anything too outrageous.”

Varric looked up from his writing, his eyes gleaming, “If she does, you have to tell me all about it.” He laughed when Marian chucked a pillow at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might make a big deal out of how Izzy was the cause of the entire Qunari/Kirkwall invasion thing but...imagine how she must feel knowing she has a friend who loves her so much that friend would risk life and limb for her...yeah...


	46. Chapter 46

Eventually she was able to stand for short periods of time. Then walk. Then go outside. It took weeks. Weeks of waiting for her arm to finish healing. Weeks of Anders fussing over her. Weeks of regaining stamina lost. And through it all, Anders was there. He sat with her, he walked with her, he helped her to the bathing room, he helped her get dressed. If Marian ever wondered what kind of husband Anders would be, well, she had learned a great deal by the time she could walk without needing a nap.

Her friends kept her occupied. They all visited, sometimes together and sometimes one at a time. Isabela was the most regular visitor. She would pop in almost daily to bring by some outrageous gift or tell some embarrassing story. As Marian healed, her visits tapered off until one day Marian got a note that simply said, “I need some time, Hawke. I know you’ll understand.” And she did. Isabela still blamed herself. So Isabela disappeared for a while to think, to adventure, to simply come to terms with the fact that somebody would put their own life on the line for her.

The next most frequent visitor was surprising. Fenris came by ever few days to sit with Marian. It had started off as quiet visits and morphed into reading lessons. Anders would come upstairs to find the two of them pouring over a book, Fenris painfully sounding out words. In deference to Marian, Anders would take himself to his study to work. He had been jealous – had one attack of the green-eyed monster – but that had been stopped early on by Marian. So he left them alone. When Fenris would leave he would go into the room and kiss Marian breathless and hold her, just to remind her that she was caught.

As she healed, she started receiving letters of thanks from the nobles, invitations to functions, and a summons to the Viscount Keep by Knight Commander Meredith. Meredith wanted to publicly announce Marian as Kirkwall’s Champion. Apparently, according to Varric, several nobles had started hounding the Knight Commander about formally recognizing Marian. So a day was set and Marian went to the Keep to receive her title and the City’s thanks.

She had her hand shaken by Meredith. An apostate recognized as a savior by the head of the Kirkwall Templar Order. Her father had to be rolling in his grave.

***

There was one more momentous occasion to celebrate. As the days turned colder and the nights longer, as Marian realized she was about to celebrate a year of living without her mother and more than that as Anders lover, she came to the decision that it was time to make things permanent. She had Varric do a little research for her on Warden customs and then went to see a jeweler.

It was close to Wintersend when she made her move. She managed to get Anders home early from the clinic. She gave everybody the night off. She locked all the doors. Then, in front of the fireplace in their bedroom and wearing the same robe she had worn when he first came to her, she got down on one knee and proposed.

The look on Anders’ face had been priceless.

“We can’t…we’re mages…we aren’t allowed to…” He had sputtered as she held out a ring.

“Normally I’d agree, but I had Varric do some research and the Wardens can get married in Orzammar by a…Shaper? The keeper of their memories. It doesn’t matter if we’re mages because you’re a Warden. They’ll record it in their books and everything. It won’t be Chantry recognized but is that really such a big deal? I love you and I want to make this promise to you.”

He looked down into her face and knelt in front of her. “You’re serious. You want to marry me? You want to travel all the way to Orzammar to exchange vows…with me?”

“I’d travel farther if I had to. Say yes, Anders.”

“Yes…” he watched her slip the ring on his finger and then winked at him and held out a ring to him. 

“Mine. To show we’re taken.” She grinned as he worked the ring onto her own hand. He examined his ring, saw small griffons and hawks engraved on the band. “Look on the inside of the ring.” He pulled his ring off and saw that their names were engraved on the inside band. “Mine matches yours.”

“Griffons and Hawks,” he murmured. “So appropriate. And it matches my pendant.”

“Think Eavan will mind that I’m stealing you away?” 

Anders drew her to him, pressed his forehead to hers. “I think Eavan would be happy for me and you. I love you, you know.”

Her lips curved up into a smile and she whispered against his mouth, “I know.”

***

The light filtered gently through the curtains of their Hightown Estate, the home of the Champion of Kirkwall and her lover. Time passed slowly, drifting along as Marian and Anders lived together, drew closer to one another. But even as their relationship tightened, the world around them started to crack. The city was mired in political uncertainty, a legacy left from the death of the Viscount. Into the void stepped Meredith and the templar order. With nobody to gainsay her, Meredith slowly took control of the city.

As the city faltered, Marian found herself dragged into a maelstrom of political problems. Tempers were flaring between the Templars and the Mages and the Chantry was content to ride out the storm with nothing more than a plea for peace. The city cried out for a leader, and the name they cried was Hawke. 

Time drifted like this for two more years – two years of joy with Anders, two years of fighting to keep from being subsumed by her responsibilities, two years of hoping the Chantry would step forward and do something – anything – to stem the tide of violence. And in the end, the two years ended with a riot outside of her door – and her lover realizing that this stalemate had to end.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins Act 3...

“Andraste's Great Flaming Arse, there was a riot right outside the door!” Marian grumped as she strode into their bedchamber. “Orsino was standing on the Keep steps flailing like a mad man and preaching vehemently against Meredith. Of course, Meredith shows up with templars and threatens Orsino. Then they both turn and look at me. ME.” She flailed a bit at Anders, her face tight. “And asked me which one of them I supported.”

Anders looked up from his writing, his face smeared with ink and his eyes dancing, “And? What did you say?”

“I told Meredith that she's a flaming idiot for running the town and then, when Orsino started gloating told him that he's a flaming arse for rioting outside my house.” Anders chuckled softly. “Elthina deigned to make an appearance right as the two of them started pouting like...well...you and Fenris do when I get mad at you two...and told them to go to their rooms.”

Anders' eyebrow rose at that. “She said that?”

“Sort of. She told the templars to gently escort Orsino back to the Gallows.” Anders snorted at the word gentle. “Then she told Meredith, and I had to cover my mouth because I was about to snicker, to be a good girl and go back to the Gallows.” Marian threw her hands up in the air. “We have templars and mages screaming at each other and Elthina acting like...like...”

“A mom.” Anders rubbed at his face.

“I asked Her Grace what she planned to do about it and she said, and I quote here, “pray.”” Marian fell backwards onto the bed. “Maker help this impossible city. Do you want to go back to Ferelden? Or maybe we should check out Tevinter? We could get Varric to track down Izzy and get a ship and all of us go sailing.”

“You know that I...”

“Have things to do here, yes. I do know, Anders. I wish you'd tell me about them but...well...we don't need a fight. Though the make-up sex is amazing, I'm not up for the screaming and then Justice appearing. I wish you trusted me more.” She felt the bed dip and then Anders was looming over her, his face a mask of unhappiness. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“No, it's...you should be able to trust your fiance. And I...Marian. Are you sure? Are you really sure about me? Because I'm not. Sure about myself. Everyday I lose a little bit more of myself to him. A little bit more of me is...gone.”

Marian watched him fret for a moment and then she tugged him down to her. “You listen here, Anders. And Justice. I am here for the long-haul. I knew who you were when I fell in love. I'm not looking for a prince to sweep me off my feet. I'm looking for a man who can stand up for his convictions. And if that means we burn this town to the ground and go live in caves, well...pass me the torch.”

Anders pressed his lips against hers, relaxed against her body as he tasted her. She slid a hand into his hair and tugged at the strands. He smiled a bit against her lips, nipping at her before moving to settle against her side. “Why do you do this?”

“What? Continually slap at you? Tell you not to be such an ass? Prod Justice repeatedly? Because I love you. I don't know why you would ever think I would want some...stick in the mud anyway. I'm an apostate. Who in Kirkwall would want to be with me except another apostate?”

“You're the Champion, Marian. A formidable and wealthy woman who commands respect from even the Knight Commander and Revered Mother. There are plenty of men who would want to be with you.”

“They would want to be with a myth. You want the real Marian. Not some...some...Champion. You want me in all of my crazy glory. Now, how is your manifesto going?”

“Slow and...confusing. I know what I want to say but I can't seem the find the right words.” He sighed and rolled to his back. “Will we ever free the mages? Will I ever make a difference?”

“I think you will. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, love. I needed to hear that.” 

“Want to go the Hanged Man and hide for a while?” She plucked at his coat. “Or do you want to stay in and...hide for a while?”

He grinned and rolled over, tugged her against him. “Mmm...stay in. And ...hide...for a while.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. She just laughed and kissed him.


	48. Chapter 48

Turning the message over in her hands, Marian ascended the stairs and went to Anders’ study. He was there, of course. Had been since the middle of the night. She had felt him leave their bed and had let him go, understood his need to work but missed him all the same. It was hard, she thought. Hard to let him have the space necessary to do whatever it was Justice needed doing. But it had to be hard for him, too. She had her own work, her own projects. And they were no less dangerous. This note proved that.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to look up and at her. His eyes slowly refocused and she made a note to drag him into the tub and then shovel a meal into him. “Hey love.” She waved the message at him. “Care to look at this?”

Anders sat back and rubbed at his forehead. He’d been working since around two in the morning. It wasn’t his manifesto, it was something else. Books from Tevinter were scattered across his desk and he had a finally found the recipe he had been looking for. He supposed a short break was in order, though he knew it was just a matter of time before he found himself bent back over this desk, plans being worked on. The message, though, must be important. He took it from her and read it, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. The Knight Commander wants to see me. Care to come with me?”

“Is that wise? We could end up in the Gallows together.” Anders worried at the message.

“I’m going to ask Varric and Aveline to join us. She won’t move against the Captain of the Guard – not openly. And Varric is a well-respected member of the Merchant’s Guild. I want you with me, Anders. I need somebody with me that thinks like I do.”

“To stop you from lighting her up in her own office?”

“Or to help me if I decide to take that route.” She smiled when he laughed. “Come take a bath with me first, though. And eat. I…you need to eat to keep up your strength.”

He watched her struggle for a moment and then went to her. “Sorry.”

“Oh Anders. Stop apologizing. Remember our first meeting when you said you needed my help with something and then asked me what I’d do if it was the Knight Commanders’ head on a pike?”

Anders wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, his eyes twinkling, “I do. You had a good laugh at my expense.”

She twisted in his grip, pressing her body against his and whispering into his ear, “yeah, well, I bet we could take her now.”

That made him bark a laugh and pull her into a kiss. “Oh Marian. Whatever will I do with you?”

“Take a bath with me. And love me. Come on, you. You’re covered in ink and dust.”

***

Several hours later and Anders was practically chasing Marian across the Gallows courtyard. She was moving briskly, her eyes bright and fiery, hair mussed, staff clenched in a fist. He saw the Knight-Captain step forward and wave her down and thought for a moment that this would be it, this would be the day they died. But Marian came to a sudden stop, turned a smile towards the Knight-Captain, and offered him the excuse that she was on the Commander’s business. Anders saw the Knight-Captain nod and accept that, but frown slightly at her.

“Marian,” he grabbed at her arm when they reached the dock. “Calm down. You need to calm down.”

“That woman. That arrogant, spiteful, uptight, uneducated, ignorant, stubborn, hateful woman.” Marian practically spit the words out. “How dare she send me on such a job. How dare she assume I’d be happy locking up…” she sneered slight, “lost mages…for her. She’d better hope to the Maker that these really are blood mages because if not I will be personally funding their escape from this…this…” She gave growl, stomped her foot and threw her arms out to encompass the city “this piss-filled, taint-covered, ass-licking, fucking nightmare of a city. I swear to all that’s holy, if somebody doesn’t burn this…this…fuckery…to the ground. I will.”

Varric finally caught up to them, his breath panting slightly. “I like that. Let me…Maker’s breath Hawke…let me get my book out and write that down. Where did you pick up that last curse? Rivaini? ” 

Marian glanced down at Varric, watching him struggle to catch his breath and pull out his book. “I can repeat it if you need me to. And no, that one was from Fenris. He got angry at part of a book we were working on and muttered that particular gem.”

“No no. I got this. Hah. Gem. Broody comes up with some doozies sometimes.” He licked the tip of a pencil and began scribbling furiously. “All we need now is for you to set something on fire….”

“Please don’t.” Aveline’s voice was weary. “And the Knight-Captain is concerned, Hawke. You’re…um…sparking a bit there.”

They all turned to see Marian’s skin crackling slightly. She gave a sheepish smile and started breathing slowly, working to calm her racing heart and her anger. “Sorry. That was just…stressful.” 

“Well, I think it’s clear we aren’t going to just do the Knight Commander’s dirty work,” Anders grumbled. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to track down these poor souls and see how many we can save. And then I’m going to shove her job up her ass.” Marian hugged Anders. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll bring witnesses.”

Aveline grumbled and then smiled slightly when Marian hugged her. “Hawke, you’re going to be the death of me. Still, I suppose I can’t argue with you about the Commander. I’ll go back to my office. If I don’t see you releasing runaway mages then I can’t get mad at you.”

“Aww, thanks Aveline. I love you too!”


	49. Chapter 49

Anders stood in the doorway to their bedroom and just looked at Marian for a moment. She was so beautiful, so wonderful and loving. She was his life. His air. His salvation.

And he was about to lie to her. A lie to save her, to keep her from harm – but still a lie. He wanted, desperately, to blame this on Justice. To have that out, that excuse, but the truth was…it was him. All him. Justice. Anders. At this point it didn’t matter anymore. He just…was. And he knew his plans would lead to his death.

At least he had had her, he thought. At least the last three years had been his. Happiness had been his. He could die happy knowing that he had gotten to touch her, taste her, hold her. And until his plan came to fruition, he planned on savoring every moment with her. 

Eavan leaving him had nearly killed him. Because of her leaving, he had agreed to join with Justice. Because of their sorrow, he had nearly died in Kirkwall. But then Marian had come into his life. She had brought sunshine and laughter, hugs and comfort, love…she had brought a love so rich and vibrant that it nearly strangled the darkness that lived in him.

But the cause of the Mages had to be handled. And this…stalement…couldn’t stand. Not forever. He would give her a little more time, give the Grand Cleric a little more time. But if Meredith pushed, well, he was prepared to push back. But that meant lying to Marian. It meant planning for his death.

He wished he could marry her before that happened.

She saw him at the door and smiled her beautiful smile. So full of life, so full of love. “Anders, love, why are you hovering in the doorway?”

He hesitated a moment, almost lost his nerve, and then steeled himself, “I was trying to figure out how to ask for your help.”

“Oh?” She had moved to him, tugged him into their bedroom. “With what? Why do you look so upset.”

“I think I have found way to separate Justice from me.” He took her hands, swallowed and pressed on, “a potion developed by the Teventers.”

She narrowed her eyes on his face, “A potion? Just a potion?”

“It has some outlandish ingredients. Two that I can’t just buy…if you don’t mind helping…”

She bit her lip and searched his eyes. For a moment he panicked, thought she would refuse him, and then she sighed deeply, “What are we looking for?”

“Well…selae petra is found in the sewers. It’s, um, crystallized urine. Drake stone is probably out in the Bone Pit.”

“Anders,” she looked down at their joined hands for a moment. When she turned her eyes back to his he saw sorrow reflected there. “I’m always here to help you. With anything. I love you.”

“So you’ll help?”

She nodded and squeezed his hands, stepped back. In her movements he felt the yawning chasm forming between them. He looked away, so he missed her brushing the tears from her face. When he turned back to her it was to catch her sudden lunge forward. “I love you so much, Anders. I swear to you, swear on my life, that no matter what you do, I will never stop. Never.”

“What?” he was shocked, baffled by her outburst.

“I know…” and he quivered at that, “I know you don’t tell me things. I know you think you’re protecting me. And I can’t…I won’t…I REFUSE to let you push me away with lies. Do you hear me? You do what you need to. Just know that I’m here. I’m always here. And I won’t ever leave you. Ever.”

“I…”

“Never. Leave. You.” She gripped his face and pulled him into a bruising kiss. She left him reeling with her emotions. “I’ll help you. Maker guide us, I will. Even with the crystallized urine.”

He laughed a little at that, relieved she would help. But fearful because she seemed determined to put herself between him and his death.

***

He was lying to her. She could see it in the back of his eyes when he came into the room, that sudden flash of blue fading to the honey brown she loves so dearly. He was lying to her and he was doing it completely. But if she said no, if she refused to help, he would go alone. He would be hurt. He might even die.

She refused to let him die for his cause. To die for her. To die for them. Fucking Kirkwall. Fucking mages. Fucking templars. She refused, simply refused, to let them take him. He was all she had left, the last of her family. Even Carver was gone, subsumed by his ambitions in the order. The last she had seen of her brother had been at Meredith’s side.

She hadn’t told Anders. 

She listened to him ask her to help and wondered what he was up to. Had he forgotten that she had been trained in potion making? Or maybe he didn’t care. She wouldn’t refuse him, couldn’t. Not now. Now even now when the lies poured from his lips. 

She wouldn’t refuse him anything. But the lies, they cut. She hoped she could figure them out before whatever he was planning backfired and killed him. Before she lost him like she had lost everyone else.


	50. Chapter 50

They had gotten the ingredients. All of them. And had taken the opportunity to kill off one mother of a dragon at the Bone Pit. And then Anders had disappeared. It had been a week since she had seen him. A week of keeping busy, of biting her fingernails and praying. A week that had started out with Fenris stopping by her home in a panic because his sister had come to Kirkwall. That had ended poorly – had ended with her frying that rat bastard magister who used to be Fenris’ owner and then letting Fenris pull out his heart. He had also killed his sister, an act that had been shocking but not surprising. She had kept Fenris with her for a couple of days.

Killing family members tended to have a negative impact on a person’s moods. 

He had attached himself to her like a burr, refusing to let her go with Sebastian alone to talk to some Chantry sister. A sister who turned out to be Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine and an old companion of the Hero of Ferelden. Marian felt like she had deserved a back pat for not frying her for even suggesting a March on Kirkwall. It wasn’t Kirkwall she worried about. It was the implied threat against Anders that had her bristling.

By the end of the week she’d killed a multitude of bandits and was tired of being alone. The house echoed around her, the memories clogging the stairs and rooms. She couldn't sleep. Was barely eating. Was starting to hear her mother in the quiet of the night. So she took herself down to Darktown, determined to drag Anders back home. She had a message she needed help with and she refused, absolutely refused, to go to Orlais without Anders. He would just have to sulk on the trip.

***

Knocking at the clinic door had produced no results, but Marian was reasonably sure Anders was hiding in the room. She knocked again, shaking the door with the strength of her pounding fist. When no response came, she pulled out her staff and set to work freezing the lock. Lock frozen, she stepped back and delivered a swift, angry kick to the door. Marian won.

Striding through the now-open doorway, and over the unfortunate door, Marian found Anders draped over a table and passed out. She paused for a moment to squint at him, memory conjuring up another time she had walked in and found him in this condition. Years ago, when they were just friends, when their attraction had simmered around them even as they fought to ignore it. She remembered how she had woken him then and the thought had her smiling even as anger flared through her.

She smoothed her fingers over his neck and then up into his hair. A quick tug and his hair-tie was gone, his hair falling around his face. She sighed when she realized his hair needed a wash and a brush. She tugged on the strands, leaned down, and whispered “Anders, wake up” into his ear.

The tug on his hair and whisper woke him. For a moment his eyes flashed blue and he glared up at her. But at the return glare, the anger shining through her eyes, the blue slowly slid back into brown and Anders’ head popped up from the table. “Marian…I…you…here…I can explain…”

“Explain?” Her eyes narrowed, her fingers slipping from his hair as she let the roaring anger fill her. She watched him sit up straighter and then stand, stumble backwards on unsteady feet. “Explain how you, my fiancé, went missing for a week? Explain how you haven’t bothered to feed yourself? Explain how you are passed out on an uncomfortable table rather than be home. Explain how you…lied to me maybe?” Her anger spun around her.

“Now Marian. It’s not…I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you had to know this was going to happen. I did warn you that I wasn’t safe…wasn’t going to make you happy…”

The crack of the slap across his face reverberated through the clinic. Anders lifted a shaking hand to his cheek, touched the reddening skin with fingertips. “How dare you even go there?” She asked in a low voice. She advanced on him and he scrambled backwards, pressing into the wall. “How…could you even assume such…you are such…” She foundered for a minute and then reached out, grabbed the edges of his fraying coat and pulled him to her. Against her and into a bruising kiss. “Dammit Anders.” she whispered against his lips, “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“Marian…” his voice broke. “Marian I’m sorry. For hurting you. For lying. For everything. I can’t be…”

“No.” She shook him, her fingers tight in his coat. “You listen to me. I promised. I promised to always be there for you. Always. Just…don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I can’t…I can’t…alone. I can’t.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t leave me alone in that house. Not with the ghosts. Not with the memories. Not without you…” 

“Oh Marian.” He finally wrapped his arms around her, cradled her close. “I’ve been so selfish. And I know I’m going to continue it. I…can’t…I have to keep you safe, love. I have to do this.”

“Then at least stay with me. Please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t. I won’t, Marian.”

“Come home?”

“Yes. Home.”


	51. Chapter 51

She woke to the wet slide of tongue down her spine. Her skin pebbled as the cool morning air washed over the damp skin. Lips pressed kisses to her lower back, slid down over the curve of her flank. Gentle hands turned her fully to her stomach, slid over the skin of her ass to cup and knead. She let out a low moan as the tongue traced circles over the small of her back and then lower, down the cleft of her ass, his hands spreading her so that he could press hot kisses over the sensitive skin. The lick over that tight pucker made her gasp and shake, his low laugh made her wiggle and flush. But she didn’t stop him when he returned to licking, not even when he gently pressed his tongue into her and she bit the pillow to keep from screaming. 

He moved back up her body after that, a long glide of skin against skin, and nipped at her ear. “Morning,” he whispered into her ear, his lower body pressing his erection against her thighs. She shift slightly and she could feel him pressing against her heat. A gentle thrust and a soft gasp and she felt him fill her. He lay still for a moment, allowed himself to enjoy her tightness, her wet, just her. Then he moved with slow, shallow thrusts. “Like that?” he asked and smiled when her response was a simple moan.

It wasn’t enough for him to touch her like this. He had to roll her over, had to stroke her face as he slid back into her, had to suck at her neck and kiss her jaw. The slow thrusts drove them both mad, drove her to pull his face to hers and bite at his lips, beg against his neck. He pressed himself against her so that each thrust had him rubbing over her entire body and let himself just feel her, feel how she held him and welcomed him into her. She simply held him closer, arms wrapped around his back, and moved under him.

She bit his shoulder when she came, arched against him and muffled her cries of pleasure against his skin. Satisfied that she had been pleasured, at least for the moment, he sped up his thrusts and joined her, gasping her name as his orgasm made his vision go white. 

They lay tangled together, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. “I love you.” He pressed another kiss to her jaw, to her neck, to her cheek. “I am sorry that I didn’t trust you.”

She pushed him over, straddled him so that she could look down into his face. “You didn’t trust me.” She raked her nails lightly down his chest. “You still don’t.”

“Not true, Marian. Not true at all. I just don’t want you to be dragged into the mess…I want you safe.” His hands covered hers and he squeezed them gently. “If you were hurt because of me, I don’t think I could take it.”

“And you think it’s your choice?” 

“I think you make choices like this for me all the time.” 

His response had her frowning. He was right. She did. She worked so hard to keep him safe, keep him happy. And was it fair for her to expect him to not want to shield her? “Is this about the mages?” She had to know at least that much.

“Yes. It is.”

“And Justice?”

“Yes. And Justice.” He watched her come to terms with that.

She nodded suddenly and then leaned down to stare at him, her face inches from his. “You get him killed Justice and not even the Fade will protect you. You understand me, Fade Spirit? I will find a way to track you down.”

Anders’ eyes shot blue and he frowned. Before Justice could speak, before they could respond to her, she was kissing him. The shock of her lips shunted Anders back into complete control. He tugged his face away, held her back as he blinked at her in shock, “You…you…”

“I’m serious, Anders. I’ve lost enough to this fucking city. I won’t lose you to it, either. You don’t need to tell me your plans…just let me help. And come home. I don’t want to track you down.”

He grumbled but finally nodded. “Fine. Deal.” He frowned for a moment and then shot her a smirk, “We should seal the deal…don’t you think?” His hands tickled over her stomach and then back to tease over her lower back.

She flushed and wiggled over him, gasping when he pinched one firm cheek. “Anders! We just made love!”

“And it’s been a week and I’m suddenly very happy to be home.” He grinned and tugged her down to kiss her, his hands smoothing down her back to play along her flanks. “I can’t enjoy you naked?”

“Want to go to Orlais with me?” The question stilled his fingers and she grinned. “Say yes and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s in Orlais?”

“A Duke’s estate. Some barmy hunt. I don’t know. Come with me so I don’t burn his house down around him.”

He slid a finger down to press gently at that puckered entrance, watched her closely. “I’ll agree…if you’ll let me try this with you.” He rubbed gentle circles over the sensitive skin, eyes on her.

“Oh…ah…um…” She babbled slightly, flushing even more when he grinned at her. “I’ve never…” 

“I gathered…”

“Izzy keeps telling me I should try it…”

“She would…”

“Why would you…”

“Make this a term of our agreement? Because it’s shocking, because it made you blush, because you make the most amazingly sexy noises when I touch your ass. And because I’m being difficult.” She groaned at him and then wiggled her hips, earning her a light slap and a chuckle. “I’d go with you even if you said no.”

“I’d let you try it even if you don’t go with me.”

“But…”

“Hah. It would be more fun to try it out in some poncy Orlesian’s fancy house. Right? Want to come eat despair ham and stinky cheese with me?”

“I do. I love you, Marian. This…the teasing…this feels…”

“Good. I know. I love you too.”


	52. Chapter 52

Marian straightened her robes, checked her hair, stiffened her back, and strode up to the Revered Mother as if she was just passing through the Chantry and happened to see her. “Revered Mother. Good evening.”

Elthina offered Marian and smile, “The Champion of Kirkwall. How are you this evening?”

“I'm fine, Your Grace. And you?”

“I am well, my child. Well. But you seem troubled. What can the Chantry offer you to ease your pain?”

Marian thought that, perhaps, that was a rather open-ended question. And one guaranteed to get her in trouble. “Oh, well…” Marian thought hard about being diplomatic, about how yelling at the Grand Cleric might not be very Champion-like behavior, about all the mages suffering in the Gallows…about a riot on her doorstep…about her lover…she thought long and hard for about two seconds and then stopped thinking. “If the Chantry would step in and solve this Mage and Templar problem, it would go a long way towards easing my troubles.”

Elthina coughed slightly at that, her lips thinning. “It is not our place to step into this conflict. This is something that must be worked out between Meredith and Orsino.”

“Hogwash,” Marian’s voice was razor sharp. “You have the power to calm things, to alleviate the suffering in the Gallows, the reign in Meredith’s paranoia. You, alone, can put an end to all of this. Why don’t you?”

“You think it that easy? I have prayed, am praying, that they will find the will of the Maker. But I was not put here to fight, to cause war, or to break up war. I was put here to pray and foster peace. To spread the Chant. To teach.”

“The Chantry holds power over the Circle. Over the Templars! How can you shun that responsibility?” Marian had moved closer to Elthina, her voice a harsh whisper. “Every day sees more abuses brought to light. Sees the templars stepping into power, a power they have no right to. Grand Cleric, Elthina, you have to put a stop to this.”

“I am doing my job, Hawke. I am praying to the Maker for guidance. There is nothing else that can be done, that should be done.”

Marian gritted her teeth at that. Without quite realizing what she was doing, she jabbed her finger into the chest of the Grand Cleric, “You damn the entire City because of your inability to act…”

“Hawke! Marian!” Marian turned to see Sebastian at her side, his hand wrapping tightly around her wrist. “What is going on here?”

Marian stepped back and tugged her hand from Sebastian’s hand. She swallowed, turned her eyes to the statue of the Maker that dominated the Chantry. What was she doing? Antagonizing the religious leader of the city, that’s what. Jeopardizing herself, Anders, the mages…all because of her anger, an anger that festered and grew the longer she lived here. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, willed herself to calm. Turning back to Elthina and Sebastian, she bowed her head, ‘I apologize Your Grace. This…has been difficult for me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. You are a mage yourself. One outside the Circle, one who does not follow the Chantry. It stands to reason that you would not understand. You should strive to understand the Maker, to follow his teachings. Magic was not meant to rule over man, but to serve man. Do you serve man, Marian?”

Marian was saved from answering by Anders. He slid an arm around Marian’s waist, his scent surrounding her. She relaxed against him, relieved he had returned. “Marian, I was looking for you. Your Grace.”

“Maker’s blessings on you, young man. You also appear troubled. Is there anything the Chantry can offer you?”

Anders shook his head, “Thank your Grace. I have been praying already. I believe the Chantry has provided all that it can. I will continue to pray. Marian, love, it’s time to go home. You have obligations.”

“Of course. Your Grace, Sebastian.” Marian inclined her head and allowed Anders to lead her from the Chantry. 

They made it down the stairs before Anders spoke. “That looked heated.”

“I may have lost control a bit. I’m sorry. She was rather…provoking.”

Anders stopped and turned her, brushed her hair back from her face. “Marian, love. My love. I would die to keep you from the Gallows, to keep you safe. If…if we cannot solve this problem, I will be forced to…”

Marian covered his mouth with her hand. “No Anders. Keep your secrets. Keep your plans. I will be fine. You will be fine. This city won’t have either of us. I swear it. Do you hear, Maker? I swear it! I will not let you have him!” Marian turned her head to the sky, her voice raw. “He’s MINE.” 

Anders laughed a bit and hugged her close. “Oh Marian. Only you would challenge the Maker for me.”

“I swear to him, I’m going to burn this entire fucking city to the ground. I bet I could if I tried hard enough.”

Anders shook his head and led her home. If she didn’t, he certainly planned to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always do Anders' quest pretty early in Act 3 - which makes me imagine the...exploding potion of doom...is something small. Maybe even several small things. And he hides them in the closets.
> 
> They're just there - waiting to see if they are needed...
> 
> Just my headcanon.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Mark of the Assassin detour before Act 3 ramps up into angst, sadness and other upset feelings.

Marian paced in the open courtyard in Hightown and glanced at Varric. “Explain to me again why we are standing here at dusk and not packing to leave first thing in the morning?”

“The note was specific. It said a meet, for here, at this time. You aren’t packed?”

“Mostly packed. I have to bring so much crap because it’s Orlais and I’m the Champion and a Noble and…”

“Dresses.” Anders whispered to Varric. “She’s peeved about the dresses.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Do I need to pack anything specific, Hawke?” Fenris glanced at her with worry.

“Just your very large sword and armor. And a change of pants. I always find a change of pants helps.”

Fenris grinned and covered his mouth with his hand, spinning to take in the courtyard. “This feels like a trap. These things tend to be traps.”

“Why do you say such nonsense, Fenris? Why does it have to be a trap? It could just be…” Varric grimaced when the black-leather wearing man sauntered into the opening with a small army behind him. “Or it could be a trap.”

Marian watched the man prance around in front of her, waving a dagger and making threats. She glanced over at Anders, rolled her eyes, and smacked the man square on the forehead with her staff. “Look here you, I have a meeting in this spot. Either fight or go home.” Anders grinned and readied his staff. Fenris growled something and let his tattoos light up. Varric pulled out Bianca and offered the man a wide smile. There was a pause as both groups looked at each other and then a dagger was buried in the man’s head and all hell broke loose.

***

It was quiet in camp. The fire crackled warmly, casting flickering shadows over the tents and the figures of Marian and Anders. She lay reclined against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, both of them watching the fire dance and twirl. Fenris prowled the edges of the camp, his eyes glancing at the other elf currently sitting near the fire with Varric, Anders and Marian. Tension shimmered in the air above the fire and spread throughout the camp.

Marian shifted slightly and felt Anders’ arms tighten around her. She smiled at his possessiveness. The slight noise caught the elf’s ears and she turned to look at Marian and Anders. “So, you two are an item?” 

Anders smiled a toothy smile at the elf, “Oh yes.” Marian patted his hand. “You could say that.”

“So Tallis,” Marian interrupted the staring contest now going on over her head, “Tell me again why you set us up in the courtyard and why, exactly, I’m helping?”

“I need to get into that party to retake something the Duke stole. You’re my best bet. And I didn’t set you up. Those ruffians just appeared.” Varric snorted and Tallis turned to eye the dwarf, “They did. Are you sure we need to bring all of these people, Marian?”

“Hawke,” murmured Fenris. “Her name is Hawke.”

“Blondie over there calls her Marian.” Tallis narrowed her eyes at Fenris and Fenris growled. 

“The abomination has that right.” He swung around to face Tallis, his tattoos gleaming. “We don’t know you. She’s Hawke to you.”

“Down Fenris,” laughed Marian. She slowly pulled away from Anders and rested her arms on her knees. “My people come with me or we don’t go. They were prepared and were chosen for their strengths.”

“Thanks, Hawke,” joked Varric. “Just my strengths?”

“And your impeccable manners, ability to make me laugh, and with the great hope you will prevent me from setting fire to anything.” Marian chuckled. “You know it’s true, Varric.” Varric just waved her off. “I’ll help you, despite the ambush. But we do things my way or not at all.”

Tallis nodded, “You drive a hard bargain, Hawke.”

“You don’t get to be Champion of Kirkwall by being stupid,” Marian replied. That caused Anders to snort. “Well…ok. Maybe you do. But Kirkwall is a pretty stupid town.”


	54. Chapter 54

“Alright Hawke, the grounds start just over that rise. Once we get there just…act like…just…” Tallis frowned at Hawke.

“Don’t say to not be myself. Because that is not happening, Tallis. They invited the Champion of Kirkwall and that is who they will get.” Marian frowned slightly. “I am not going to be all hoity-toity for them.”

Anders and Varric shared a look. “You know how, Hawke?” Varric asked.

“Shut up, Varric. I have manners. I just…don’t use them.”

“Love, you are the epitome of grace.” Anders took her hand and beamed at her.

Marian frowned at him, “I am not agreeing to any more of your prurient little fantasies so quit it.”

“What did you agree to?” Varric asked, rifling in his pocket for a pencil. “I can make something up if you prefer.”

Marian growled and Anders laughed, tugged her against him and wrapped an arm around her waist. “She just needs a bath. And to not be walking up mountains.”

“She needs to not have to deal with such silliness.” Fenris broke in. “And no, I do not wish to know what you requested of her, abomination. You keep your fantasies to yourself.”

Anders waggled his eyebrows at Marian, grunting when she punched him in the stomach. “Grace, I tell you. The epitome of it.”

***

“So…this is what a room looks like in an Orlesian Duke’s mansion?” Marian gazed around their bedchamber. “Kinda gaudy, isn’t it?”

Anders chuckled. “It is rather…ostentatious.”

Their room was gloriously spacious, boasted a massive four-poster bed, and was gilded within an inch of its life. Every surface had something painted gold or covered in gilt. And if it wasn’t golden, it was a pale, pale blue. The bed was a white and gold monstrosity. The tub was in the shape of a dragon. Marian kicked at a stool that had dragon-shaped feet with a gold and blue pillowed top and sighed. “Who can sleep in here?”

“With the fire low and no lanterns, we won’t be able to see it.” Anders went to check the tub, humming in approval at the Dwarven craftsmanship. “Let me draw you a bath.”

Marian bit her lip, “Seduction so soon?”

“Shh, I know you are tired and hot. Your feet hurt. And a bath will relax you. So will me rubbing your back. Then…we’ll see. I know I told you it would be the trade-off but Marian…I would never…”

She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know, Anders. I’m teasing you. And a bit nervous. And a bit turned on. And mildly horrified by this room. So…why not draw me that bath and we’ll go from there? A distraction from all this…gold…would be nice.”

***

He bathed her. Took the time to pamper her a bit, to attend to her. It was something he hadn't done in a while – not since the tension in the city had ratcheted up. And once they returned, well, he worried they would run out of time. So he bathed her, cleaned her with the expensive soaps, and dried her with the luxurious towels that had been provided.

He had her stretch out on the bed, on her stomach, to start. There was a small collection of oils in the room – softly perfumed and exotic. Choosing one had been hard, and he had settled for a slightly nutty scent. Taking his time, he rubbed the oil into her skin from the top of her back to the tips of her toes, had worked her muscles till she was loose and purring. Then he rolled her over, and starting at her toes, he worked back up to her breasts. He watched her as he palmed each breast, smoothed the oil into her skin, slid his fingers over her nipples till she was gasping softly, till they hardened for him. 

His hands slid down her torso to her hips, rubbed tight circles over the tight skin over her hipbones. Gently, he parted her thighs and worked at relaxing those muscles, raked his nails lightly over the tender skin, dragged his fingertips down to her curls. Parted her. Leaned down and blew over her, watched her arch at the puff of air over sensitive skin. “Stay arched up for me,” he whispered. He took one of the bolsters and placed it under her hips and then settled back between her open thighs. “Relax for me. Let me pleasure you.” His voice whispered up to her and she let herself go limp, trusting him to not push her to fast.

He dragged a finger up her wetness and pressed against the little bundle of nerves and summoned a tiny bit of his power to soothe her with heat. When she was moving restlessly, he dragged his finger back down between her curls, tiny sparks of electricity flaring from his finger. She cried out at the sudden jolt of pleasure, tried to sit up, her eyes wide. He laughed and pushed her back down and shook his head at her, “Stay down, love. Let me do this.” She moaned as he started to work over her with light passes, the sparks causing her to writhe and whimper.

As she shuddered and moaned for him, he slowly teased a well-oiled finger over her tight pucker, pressed lightly till he could work one finger into her. He pinched her clit, tugging, as he slowly slid his finger in to the second knuckle, waited for her to relax, and then started moving with slow thrusts. Gradually, he worked in a second finger and when she was nearly mindless from his toying, a third. 

He stretched her slowly, worked her till she was begging him to let her come, her voice a needy whine punctuated by moans and whimpers. It was only when she lost the ability to speak, was making just little noises of want, that he oil his erection and move over her. “Breath for me, love. Relax.”

“Anders...” her voice was husky with desire. “I...”

“I know, just relax.” He kissed her and pressed forward, slowly slid into her. She inhaled a shaky breath and looked at him with wide eyes. “Ok?” he asked her as he settled in her, pressed fully into the tight heat.

“Oh....Maker....” she whispered. “Maker...”

He smiled, “Anders...my name is Anders.” His laugh was strained as he started to move, his eyes closing at the sensations. “Oh...” he exhaled on her inhale.

His fingers found her little bundle of nerves, dragged lightly over her overly-sensitive flesh, and made her clench. Made her teeter on the edge of the cliff of pleasure. She arched her back, drove him deeper, and bit her lip. “Anders...”

“Come for me, Marian.” 

Eyes wide, she fell, called his name, saw stars. Her release drove him, tugged him over with her.

When he came to, he was sprawled over her, still buried in her. She was panting softly, still twitching. He winced and moved, slowly pulled out of her and gathered her up. Rocked her and whispered in her ear of his love for her. Her hands fluttered against his chest, gentle pats as she tried to tell him she was alright. He finally picked her up and took her back to the tub, wrapped her back in towels while he refilled the tub and washed her again.

Later, tucked into bed, wrapped around each other, he pressed his face against her back. “Anders?” she called his name, worried. “Love?”

“I'm...I'm alright. I...you...”

She turned in bed, “We've had sex before.” She teased at him gently.

“But I was your first for this. And...I...” he touched her cheek. “Your trust in me.”

“Is not misplaced. I love you, Anders. Even when you drive me to rage, I love you. And I do trust you. That was amazing. Electric....” she tapped his nose, “overwhelming.”

“I don't deserve you, you know.”

“You only say that because I let you...you know...anal...” she flushed. “Isabela was wrong.”

“Oh?”

“She said it was fun and pleasurable.”

“It wasn't?” Anders looked concerned.

“It was amazing. Overwhelming…shocking.” She laughed at the look on his face. “And before you ask, yes, we can do that again. Was that the electricity trick? Hmm” She grinned at his flush. “Glad I didn't have you do that around Carver. We would have scarred him for life.”

Anders laughed and squeezed her. “We need to sleep. You have to be social tomorrow.” He tucked the covers around her. “Thank you, Marian.”

“No, thank you. Maybe I won’t set this place on fire tomorrow.


	55. Chapter 55

Marian stood next to the dead wyvern and kicked at the corpse. “So, this is the big nasty creature we were sent out to hunt and kill?”

“Yes. And that was a good sized one. You didn’t even flinch when it ran at you…” Tallis was gawking at the four of them slightly. Fenris gave her a condescending smile and sat down to clean his sword off. Varric snorted and checked Bianca for damage.

“Oh…well…” Marian fumbled slightly.

“Tell her about that High Dragon you took down recently,” Varric said. “Or the Varterral. Or the giant spider in the Deep Roads.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t hunt,” Tallis gazed at Marian with a steady look.

“If by hunt you mean go out with the dogs and chase animals, no. But if you mean bandits or…high dragons…then I do. Hunt that is.” She gave Tallis a grin. “So…there’s a party later? And I have to dress up? How horrid. I bet there will be despair ham…also horrid!” 

“There is. We should mark this and head back to report our kill. Then get cleaned up for the party.” Tallis brushed off her hands and shook her head, “Hawke, you terrify me.”

“Good,” muttered Anders as he moved to hug Marian, “If she’s terrified of you she’ll stop flirting.”

Marian laughed and poked Anders in the side, “Come on. Let’s get this party over with.”

***

A few hours later and Marian was standing near a well-manicured hedge and wishing she could just go have a drink in a tavern. She was wearing a fancy dress, fancy shoes, and had her hair curled and styled. She was uncomfortable, itchy, bored, and twitchy. She was saved from setting the bush on fire by Anders strolling up her.

“Marian love, you look beautiful.” He slid an arm around her waist and squeezed her. 

“Me? You are causing a minor scene. Look at you in your finery. I knew you would look amazing in this robe. And oh…we should go rescue Fenris…oh no.” Marian gestured to Fenris, dressed in all black and managing to look both menacing and sexy all at once. “He’s been cornered.”

Anders sniggered slightly and then coughed when Marian elbowed him. “Fine, fine. I’ll go get him. You stand here and look ravishing.” He chuckled at her cranky response and went to rescue Fenris from the two men and three women who had cornered him.

“Your men are causing a scene. Even the dwarf.” Marian turned to see Tallis stroll up to her. “And you, Champion. You are causing the biggest scene.”

“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Marian fidgeted. Had she, she wondered. She was wearing knickers. Had her shoes on. Hadn’t set anybody on fire…

“You kill a giant wyvern with no trouble, deal with an outraged noble, and then show up looking flawless.” Tallis gave her a smile and slid her eyes down Marian’s body. “Beautiful, deadly…dangerous…”

“Tallis, are you hitting on me?” Marian glanced at the elf, a slight flush on her cheeks.

“Do you want me to be?” Was the response. Marian frowned slightly and shook her head. “But, teasing and flirting aside, we need to get in to the mansion. Any ideas?”

Marian tapped her chin and glanced around the party. “I don’t usually have to break into buildings. I usually just…storm them…”

Tallis chuckled and slid her hand into Marians, “Well, I think our first step is getting a key. And I know just who to talk to.” She winked at Marian and slid away to go chat up a guard, leaving Marian to wonder just why she had agreed to help this elf.

***

“Explain to me again how we went from breaking and entering to captives.” Marian asked as she leaned back against the wall of the dungeons.

“Well, the Duke was smarter than I had anticipated…” Tallis started and then stopped with a sigh. “Hawke…Marian…I haven’t been honest with you.”

“Oh…my day is just getting better. Please, don’t hold back. Out with it.” Marian tugged at her dress and frowned at a tear she found in it.

“I’m Qunari…” Tallis started, stopping again when she was pined in place by Marian’s eyes. “Part of the Ben-Hassrath. We protect the Qunari faith, enforce it, protect the innocents.”

Marian closed her eyes and beat her head against the wall behind her, “You weren’t sent to kill me, were you? After what happened with the Arishok…”

“No, your fight with him was impressive. You beat him in single combat and that made it worthy. No, I’m here to stop something else…I…lied to you.”

“Just tell me? Don’t be all dramatic.”

“The Duke…he is being given information. Information that could harm innocents. I am here to stop it.”

“So no shiny gem?”

“Oh, there is one. I would have made sure you gotten it. But you’re too…you aren’t what I was expecting, Marian. Not at all. You’re not some callow woman out for her own reasons. Your friends showed me that. Your actions showed me that. No, you are worthy. A worthy woman.” Tallis moved closer to her. “I…”

“Tallis,” Marian glanced at the elf, “I am deeply committed to Anders. Your admiration is flattering, but he’ll set you on fire or worse if you touch me.”

Tallis laughed a bit, “Fair enough. So, are you tired of sitting in here? I am. Let’s leave. Find the guys.” She stood and went to the locked door, fiddled around for a minute, and then pushed the door open with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Marian stood and shook her head, “If you could have done that, why leave us sitting in this cell?”

“Well,” Tallis gave a sheepish grin, “I wanted to talk. And you swore your friends would find us.”

“Yeah…well…I should have known better. I didn’t bring Aveline. She’s the only one who can really read a map or follow directions.” 

The two of them shared a look and burst out laughing. Their laughter grew when the guys came running up mere moments after they exited the cell. Seeing the surprised look on the three faces made Tallis and Marian chortle and cackle, the men stuck staring at each other in shock and surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. I was finishing up a funky modern AU that hit my brain pretty hard. But I'm back to working on Anders & Marian!
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr under Warriormaggie
> 
> I am always up for chatting. Or hugs!


	56. Chapter 56

“Aren’t you glad we raided the Duke’s treasure chambers for every last sovereign?” Marian asked as they worked their way through the network of caves that would lead them out of the dungeon. “I plan on breaking into our rooms to get my stuff before we leave. I’m just warning you. I wore my favorite robe here.”

“I’m just glad we found some staves in there. What do you think he was doing with them?” Anders swung his in a wide arc and pointed it at a large rock, a shard of ice materializing and slamming into the rock with impressive force. “I might take to using this one.”

“There is no telling,” Marian said as she patted her own staff. “I just know that I’m going to shove it up his ass if I see him again.”

The men shared a look, “Marian, love, please don’t burn down a Duke’s estate.” Anders begged. “We have enough problems in Kirkwall.”

Marian just muttered. “He locked me in his dungeon.”

“You broke into his house.”

“Yes, well. He’s still a poncy Orlesian who serves bad food and smells funny.” Marian turned from Anders as if that was the end of the argument.

“I think being champion has gone to your head.” Varric said with a laugh.

“I just hate Orlais. I hate Kirkwall too but I know where I stand there. Here…no clue. They all say one thing but mean another. In Kirkwall I can say I hate you and people know I mean it. Here they laugh and think I’m lying. Then try to shank me in my bedroom. Barking mad, the entire country.”

“You just hate them because you’re Ferelden.” Varric said with a headshake.

“Damn straight I do, Varric. Poncy bastards.” Marian muttered, smiling slightly when Anders took her hand.

***

The tunnels turned out to be full of ghasts and the Duke’s men. By the time they had reached the side of the mountain, Marian was mumbling a steady stream of curses that seemed to include the Duke’s parentage, mabari, ghasts, and violence. Anders was patting her shoulder, worried she was going to go off half-cocked and set something on fire. Varric and Fenris had taken to walking behind her in the great hopes of not setting her off more.

Tallis was striding ahead, worry stamped on her face.

“Hawke. I know I wasn’t forthcoming with you. And I know you are ready to just leave this place, but please. I need your help to stop the Duke. He’s going to be meeting with my old mentor. If the information my mentor has exchanges hands people will die. I know you and the Arishok didn’t see eye to eye but we are talking about innocent lives here. Children, spouses…families.”

Marian sighed and pinched her nose, glanced up at the sky, shook her staff at the fluffy clouds, and waved her hands. “Fine. Fine. We’ll go stop the exchange. And then I’m heading home. I hate to say it but I’m afraid I’ll find Kirkwall a giant, smoking crater if I stay away much longer.”

Anders looked a bit guilty, “I’m sure nothing has happened in our absence.” He fidgeted and looked preoccupied for a moment.

“Hmm…” was all Marian said.

***

Marian stood at the edge of the cliff and tried to look suitably guilty. She had just stomped on Duke Prosper’s fingers and watched him fall to his death. She thought that perhaps she should feel something other than satisfaction. Wasn’t that the hallmark of becoming a bad person? Satisfaction at seeing somebody else die?

She had felt a modicum of satisfaction at killing the Arishok. She hadn’t been particularly broken up when Petrice, the scheming Chantry Mother, had died. She hadn’t even been overly upset at seeing the Viscount minus his head. Scratching at her nose, she pondered this stain that seemed to have appeared on her soul and figured that it was probably from living in Kirkwall.

And perhaps she may want to consider moving sometime in the near future as she was becoming immune to death and destruction.

She felt a hand on her back and turned her head to see Anders next to her. He stared over the cliff for a moment and then looked at her, “What’s bothering you?”

“I feel relief that he’s dead.” She said in a quiet voice. “Relief.”

“What else should you feel?” Anders asked as he tugged her to him.

“I don’t know. But shouldn’t I be upset? I killed a man.”

“You’ve killed a lot of men,” was his response. “Do you feel guilty about them?”

Marian sighed. “I’m a bad person, Anders.”

The sudden shake had her teeth rattling, “You are not. Don’t let one hateful man make you think that. Sometimes, evil needs to be put down and that means killing. But I’ve seen you mourn after a battle. I’ve seen you try everything in your power to stop from using violence. The Duke was obviously up to no good. And he tried to kill you. Don’t you dare call yourself a bad person.”

She bit her lip and let him press her to his chest. “I just…am so tired Anders. Tired of the fighting and the city and…I am going to look at selling the estate. We’ll move on. Maybe back to Ferelden.”

“You want to leave Kirkwall?” Anders asked with surprise in his eyes. “I…don’t…”

“Well, not right away. But soon, yes. Maybe in the next year or two. I think we’re both due a long retirement from saving people. We can rescue cats and drink wine and not kill people or deal with templars.”

Anders ran his hands over her arms and looked at her, “Marian, I…”

“Nope, told you. Keep your secrets. Just…promise me that when the shit finally hits the fan you’ll leave with me. Because I have a feeling Kirkwall is going to burn. And I’m going to have to clean house when that happens. And trust me, I’ll be ready to leave once I’m done with that.”

“Alright. I promise. Now, can we go home? I have wyvern spit in my boots and I think my feathers need to be cleaned.”

Marian snorted and pulled his head down to give him a kiss, “Yeah, we can go home. I’m ready to get out of Orlais already. Get home where the crazies at least are our crazies.”


	57. Chapter 57

Kirkwall had not burned down in her absence. Sadly. It was still standing, still full of mischief and still full of terrible people. Still roiling with unrest due to the lack of leadership. The Chantry still refused to step forward and do anything. The general population was still clamoring to know what she was going to do about it.

Marian figured they could solve their own problems for once as she seemed to have a plethora on her plate already. She was staring at a letter from Isabela begging for help, a letter from Merrill begging for help, a summons from the Knight-Captain, and a short note that simply read:

_Messere Hawke,_   
_Please meet me at the Viscount Keep at the earliest opportunity._   
_Yours,_   
_King Alistair._

Marian had held up the letter, turned it over, shaken it, pondered it, and finally just threw her hands up and laughed. King Alistair indeed, she though. Well, if it WAS the king, she should go. And if it wasn’t, well, she could shove her staff up their ass. Either way, it was some afternoon entertainment.

***

Dressed in her nicest robe, hair brushed, and no blood present on her person, Marian entered the Viscount’s Keep with Anders, Varric, and Aveline in tow. She fussed with the sash of her robe, glancing at Anders with a worried look. “What’s he like?”

“Who? The King? Not a clue. I only met him once and that was back before I was a warden. He’s big, likes to wear shiny armor, and seemed ok. He…ah…” a flash of pain skittered over his face, “He loves the Warden Commander to distraction. Or so it seemed.”

Marian took his hand in hers and squeezed it, “He wasn’t the only one,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come with you. I’ll just…” Anders fretted.

“No, you’re my fiancé. You should be here. She can’t have you and he can’t hurt you. And I love you.”

Anders squeezed her hand back and settled a bit, his face tilting at a tall man wearing gilded plate mail. “There he is. He hasn't changed much since I was conscripted.”

Marian took in the expressive face and the plate mail embossed with the heraldry of Ferelden. He was tall and very broad across the shoulders, with a very mobile mouth that looked like it smiled frequently – though it was currently frowning. The reason for the frown stood in front of him: Knight-Commander Meredith. She was railing about him pardoning some apostates and refusing to deport them. Marian leaned on her staff for a moment, took a deep breath, tried to find that calm center that helped her not set fire to her brother, and then strode ahead.

“Knight Commander. So good to see you out of the Gallows. Have you moved from trying to rule Kirkwall to ruling another country?” Marian's voice was a mix of cordial and cold. She came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs the Knight-Commander and King were on and raised her eyebrow at the Knight-Commander.

“Champion. What brings you here?”

“Oh, you know. Royal summons, an inkling there was conflict. You know how I love to just butt into conflict. Where's Orsino? Was he not invited to this dressing down?”

“Your tone of voice is unappreciated, apostate.”

“That's Champion Apostate. Take it up with Elthina. I have a royal summons. I'm a busy woman. Can you finish your dressing down of royal personages later?” Next to her, Anders winced and laid a hand on Marian's arm. She glanced at him and tried to look apologetic. She must not have succeeded because he sighed.

“I will be bringing this up with the Revered Mother. Keep pushing me and you will find yourself in my care in the Gallows.” Meredith shot the King a vicious look and swept down the stairs and out the front door.

Marian snorted and muttered under her breath, “I'd like to see her try.” Her muttering was interrupted by a shout of laughter and the King of Ferelden advancing down the stairs towards her. “Maker help me I forgot he was here.” She gave Anders a slightly panicked look. “You're Majesty, I apologize...”

She didn't get to finish. She found herself the recipient of a very enthusiastic back pat. And then her hands were being grasped in the King's very warm, very large hands and squeezed affectionately. “Please, I dislike being called Majesty. Much to Teagan's distress, yes? That's Teagan, my Uncle. Sort of....”

There was a cough and a handsome older man sedately walked down the stairs to join them. “I am Teagan, I'm just sort-of his Uncle. That was quite a marvelous display of temper and restraint, Milady.” Teagan smiled when he said Milady, the look on his face clearly transmitting the he found her dislike of the term amusing.

Marian would have waved her hand at the Milady but her hands were currently being held by the King. She was conscious of Anders fidgeting next to her and it occurred to her that this was the man who had stolen, for lack of a better word, Eavan from him and he was now affectionately squeezing her hands. Marian didn't think pulling her hands from the King's would look good so she settled for smiling up at Anders and winking, causing him to still and relax a bit. “What should I call you then? King? Ruler?”

“Alistair? Not enough people do anymore. Except for the Hero of Ferelden and even then only in private. Eavan says we need to look respectable in public.”

She heard a muttered, “I've tried telling Hawke that” from behind her and Marian twisted her head around to frown at Aveline.

Alistair laughed at that. “I see you are subjected to the same amount of babysitting that I am.” He gave her hands one more squeeze, smiled at her in a very friendly manner, and then moved back a bit. His eyes met Anders' and he stilled a moment. “Warden...I remember you. Eavan conscripted you. A mage...Vigil's Keep...”

Anders had paled a bit at that and Marian reached for his hand, drawing him closer to her. “I...yes, Your Majes...Alistair...Ser.” Anders was starting to shake.

“What happened?” was all Alistair asked.

Anders was practically hyperventilating, working to not flee. Marian ignored the King in favor of drawing Anders into a tight embrace. “The Commander left and the new one stuck templars on him. They harassed him, tried to kill him, looked for a reason to return him to the tower. Shh, love. Shh. I apologize, Alistair.”

Anders held his breath as Alistair looked at him. It was with surprise that he saw Alistair's hands clenching into tight fists, his face tightening. “I'm sorry. Eavan is going to be very upset when she hears this. She speaks so fondly of her recruits – you especially. She never could abide templars. She barely forgave me for having been trained as one. What happened to you was...” Alistair's eyes went hazy and he shook his head, “She worked so hard to bring about change and the Chantry still tries to undo all her hard work. You have nothing to fear. I won't tell the Wardens about you.”

Alistair turned his eyes to Marian, “I was hoping to talk to you about the situation in Kirkwall, but the Knight Commander has already squashed that. I was hoping to find a way to settle all the unrest peacefully. There are a lot of refuges here. I don't want to see any of my people hurt because Kirkwall's leadership is spotty.”

Aveline made a noise at that and Alistair looked at her, smiled. “Are you a former Ferelden then?”

“I served at Ostagar, your Majesty,” Aveline said as she sank into a curtsy, adamantly refusing to address the King by his given name.

“We could use you in Ferelden. People like you and the Champion. Like all of you. Remember that should you decide you can't stay here. Any reason. Ferelden needs to rebuild and we need strong leaders to do that.” Alistair's eyes went hazy again, “Kirkwall is heading towards violence. I implore you, Champion, to find a way to stop this.”

“I want to burn the town down but I was told that wasn't feasible. And call me Marian, please.” Marian said.

Alistair gave her a stunned look and then burst into laughter. “I like you, Marian. You decide you want to move, let me know. I could use somebody like you.”

“You realize I'm apostate...” Marian said, leaning on her staff.

“Eh, you should have seen the people I traveled with when we stopped the Blight. I don't care what the Chantry says about mages. You're no more dangerous than an Antivan Crow. And I know an Antivan Crow personally. You ever want to return, Marian, you just say the word. You wouldn't even have to settle in Denerim. I'll give you land and let you help the citizens in the Bannorn or where ever. We have a lot of people that need help.”

“Majesty,” Teagan said, moving up, “We should get going. Milady is returning to Denerim soon and you should be there.”

“She has a name, Teagan. Use it. Either Hero of Ferelden or Eavan – which is how she prefers to be called. You know how she hates being called Milady.” Alistair gave Teagan a stern look.

Teagan gave him a lazy smile, “I know, that's why I use it. It's too bad she settled for you, your Majesty.”

“Fighting words, Teagan. Fighting words. He's right, though. I must be off. Please let me know if you need help, Marian. I can't do much, but I can provide a safe harbor.” He took her hand in his one more time, smiled down at her, and then strode out the front door with Teagan.

Marian looked at her hand, glanced at Anders, and shook her head. “That's Ferelden's king?”

“Yep.” Anders said, his eyes on her face.

“Huh,” was all Marian said. She nabbed Anders hand and squeezed it. “Let's go home. I've had enough excitement for today.”


	58. Chapter 58

Marian looked down at her boots and grimaced, “I have varterral spit in my boots again. Why was that thing alive? We decimated it the last time we were here.”

“No idea, Hawke. None. And that assassin we are looking for is supposed to be here?” Varric was checking over Bianca, his face a mask of concentration. He frowned slightly, pulled out a handkerchief, and started polishing Bianca's stock. “Blasted goo is everywhere.”

“Sorry Varric. I got mad.” Marian didn't look sorry. She looked peeved. Varric glanced at her face and just shook his head. “Well, I'm sorry I got varterral spit on Bianca.”

“Are we sure the assassin isn't here?” Anders was looking around the room, his eyes staying mostly brown. Stress and worry for her brought Justice to the front faster and faster each day. Marian watched his eyes shoot straight blue. She moved to stand in front of him.

“Hey. Hey, it's fine. I'm fine. Maker knows, those elves may have been pulling our chain. No need to get riled.”

She had just wrapped her arms around Anders when there was a noise behind her, the soft scuffing of leather on rock. She stiffened, saw the rest of her companions stiffen and then move to stand in front of her. She finished the hug, pressing a soft kiss to Anders lips, and then turned and moved in front of the group. Standing near the group, hands held out and empty, was an elf.

A rather handsome elf. A rather handsome elf that was smiling a rather enticing come-hither smile. Tanned skin, blond hair, large golden eyes, and fascinating tattoos, he saw her looking and winked. The wink broke the spell and she sighed. “Are you the assassin, then? Either you are the worst assassin in Thedas or you're being deliberately un-sneaky.”

The elf laughed, a full-bodied laugh that filled the cave and moved closer, “I am the assassin, yes. You were sent to apprehend me?”

Marian moved away from Anders and watched him. “Yes. By an Antivan man who said he was nobility but seemed rather dodgy.”

“Ah. Nuncio. You are very perceptive, Champion. Delightfully so.” He moved closer to her, flowed over the rock and was standing in front of her before she could blink. She stiffened and he smiled, a slow curling of his lips. 

“You know who I am...” Marian watched him as he circled around her, turning to keep him in her sights. 

“Beautiful. Deadly. Capable of engendering loyalty in your followers.” Zevran's eyes met hers and he seemed to be goading her, “Tell me, my lovely Hawke, what will you do with me? Tie me up and deliver me to Nuncio? Or perhaps you will be generous and let me go. Or...perhaps...tie me up but keep me to yourself?” He had drifted up to her and whispered the words against her ear.

Marian heard Anders growl. Actually growl. And it made her laugh. “I...see. How about you tell me why this Nuncio wants you so badly. And perhaps not stand so close. My fiance over there doesn't approve.”

Zevran gave Anders a lazy smile. “The mage? The Warden mage? You two are...engaged? Does Eavan know? My dove was very fond of this one. She'll be tickled that he's found somebody who appreciates him.” Zevran had drifted over to Anders and was sizing him up. “Handsome, too. She always did have an eye for blond humans.”

Anders was watching him with a raised eyebrow. When Zevran's hand reached out touch his hair he snagged it, his eyes glowing blue for a second before settling back into warm brown. “You knew Eavan?”

“Ahh...she will always be my dove.” Zevran saw the look on Anders' face and sobered, stopped teasing. “She saved me, you know. I was sent to kill her and she ended up saving me. You know her. You know how she is, yes?” At Anders' nod he smiled and looked at Hawke, “And she is like her. Just a little? In the ways that matter?”

“Marian is my life,” Anders said. “She...saved me. Much like Eavan did.”

Marian watched the two men exchange a look, some knowledge passing between the two. Anders looked down at his hand holding the elf's wrist, and sighed, let it drop. “You are her Crow. She told us stories. Your name...it's been a while...but I remember. She spoke of you with such affection. She accused me once of being as bad as you.”

Zevran bit his lip and chuckled, “A flirt, then? She is a very tempting woman. I saw her not long ago. Hasn't changed a bit. When she heard where I was headed next, well. She asked me to send you this. On the off-chance I saw you.” Zevran went to a bag nestled behind some rocks and pulled out a letter, held it out to Anders. “I wasn't sure if I would see you. And if not, I would have paid a small child to deliver it. She didn't want to...worry....Alistair.”

Marian watched Anders take the letter and tuck it away. His eyes met hers and he saw the small glint of jealousy flaring in her eyes. He patted the pocket briefly and went to her, wrapped his hands around her shoulders and looked into her eyes, “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you,” he murmured to her. 

Marian nodded, exhaled, and then looked at Zevran, “So...why are you here?”

“Let's just say I am cleaning up the Crows, yes? And they are a little upset with me. Nuncio was sent to corral me. You kill off a few dozen and they send some assassins. Kill off a couple guild leaders and their men...they get desperate. It may be time for me to head back to Antiva and finish this.” He scratched his chin and looked at her. “What are your plans for me, then?”

“I have no reason to want you dead. And I've got enough on my plate without pissing off the Hero of Ferelden by killing her pet assassin.” She watched Zevran's face light up at the “pet assassin” bit. “But I really dislike liars. So I think I'll be visiting Nuncio. It won't be pleasant.”

“He is a worthy opponent, Hawke.” 

“And I'm a very pissed off apostate. Who do you think is going to win? Go ahead and leave, Zevran. Be safe and well. I'd say it was a pleasure meeting you, but I still have varterral spit in my boots.”

Zevran laughed and bowed low, “You are as merciful as you are beautiful, My Hawk. Please be well.” He winked at Anders, nabbed his bags, and left. 

Anders looked at Marian, “I...”

“Let's go track down this Nuncio character, kill him, burn his corpse, and then go home. I want a bath and some food. And you need privacy to read that letter.” She blinked when he wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his face against her neck, “You ok?”

“I meant it. She may have saved me once but you save me every day. From myself. From fear. From Justice. You. Marian Hawke. I love you.” He exhaled against her neck and shook a bit.

Marian squeezed him back, “I love you too. Even with varteral spit in my shoes. You're worth it Anders. You always have been and you always will be. She can't have you back. You're mine.” She pulled back to smile at him, “Part of me is a bit jealous. But part of me is happy that she worries for you. Because it lets you know that there are people who love you. You, Anders, are loved. Now...home. Bath. Food. Letter.” She kissed him lightly, “Maybe more later.”

He smiled, grabbed her hand, and let her lead him home. The thought that people remembered him, loved him, warmed him deeply. Made the darkness a little less cloying, a little less scary. Made him a bit more resolute in his plans. If he was loved, then maybe what he was fighting for was worth every sacrifice.


	59. Chapter 59

_Anders,_

  
_I hope and pray that this letter finds you safe and well. I heard through reliable sources that you are in Kirkwall now. I'm not sure that I am comforted by the fact that you are in a city so filled with templars and the Chantry. In fact, I know I am worried._

_I heard what happened with the Wardens. Nathaniel wrote me a long letter to tell me about the templars and you. Accounts as to what really happened are hazy. All Nathaniel knew was that the templars and wardens sent to bring you in to the Chantry were burned beyond recognition and you were gone._

_My anger at the new Commander was...all-consuming. Needless to say, that Commander is no longer a problem. Sometimes, having a Crow as a dear friend pays off. The Wardens only know that he had an accident. It wasn't nearly enough to settle my mind, but I could not march myself back to Vigil's Keep._

_I am in hiding, dearest. I can no longer stand to engage in battle. I can't have blood on my hands any longer. Alistair worries for me. He fears my Calling will be sooner than his because I Joined during a Blight. Because I killed the Archdemon. He has helped me hide. While I don't enjoy all the aspects of him being King, the fact that he can hide me so well is, well, one perk._

_Zevran told me he would be going to the Free Marches soon. To hunt down some pissant Crow who dares to oppose him. I am giving him this missive for you in the hopes he will see you. Alistair will also be visiting Kirkwall. I dare not pass on anything to him._

_I miss you terribly. I often think about our last night together. I miss you. I made the choice that had to be made. And I would make it again – both to love you and him. I love Alistair with my entire being. He has been there from the start. From the moment I woke and found myself in charge of a Blight. But I also love you. And I always will. I hope to Andraste that you are safe, that you are with this Marian Hawke I hear so much about. She will keep you safe._

_Don't try to find me. Don't try to message me. Just know that I love you and you are in my thoughts. Often. You are not alone, Anders. I remember you and always will. Should you ever find yourself back in Ferelden go Denerim, to Alistair. He will find you a safe place. He has no love of the Chantry or the templars. You would be safe._

_Be well, Anders._

_Love always,_

_Eavan_

Anders sat back, the letter on his knee, and gazed into the fire. He had been prepared for the spike of sadness. What surprised him was how small it was, how minor the prick to his heart. He looked when a hand smoothed over his hair and saw Marian and thought perhaps he knew why it hurt so little. He smiled, a tired little smile, and handed the letter to Marian. There were enough secrets between them. He wouldn't keep her from this.

Her eyes scanned down the page, her free hand tightening and relaxing reflexively. When she reached the end of the letter she handed it back and gazed into the fire. “She avenged you.” Her voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“If she had found out about the templars, well, I'm not surprised.” Anders said, standing to wrap his arms around Marian. “She never could abide them.”

“Why?” Marian turned in his arms and pressed her face into the crock of his neck. “She's no mage.”

“City elf, love. From the Denerim Alienage. She spoke to me once about how the templars always seemed like invaders. How they were allowed to come in and just take elf children. Granted, they were mage children but still. Look at it from her point of view. Already considered less than the humans, walled off to live in poverty, and armored men come into your home to just take children. It was galling to her.”

Marian gently kissed the side of Anders' neck, licking his skin a little. His taste made something in her twist, made want swell. “I thought she freed the tower.”

“She did. And ignored every templar in the place. I believe it gave her great joy to have done something a bunch of big, cranky, armored men couldn't do. She would spit every time she saw a templar. Called them all Shems. Refused to be polite.” Anders chuckled softly. “It was one of her endearing little qualities.”

“Mm... maybe I would like her.” Marian tugged his head down to her and kissed him. “I love you.”

He smiled against her lips and sank his hands into her hair to hold her still, opened her mouth and tasted her. “I love you too. More and more every day.”

She tasted like the wine she had just drunk. Her body melted against his, pliant and open. She was so giving with him, always willing to be touched and held, always willing to love him. He let his lips slid down her chin, down her neck. Tilting her head back, he bit over her pulse and sucked lightly, laved the skin with his tongue as he felt her pulse start to pound.

Her breathless laughter made him grin, made his eyes spark with wickedness and want. “I want you, Marian.” He pushed her gently over the chair, laughing when she goggled at him a bit from over her shoulder. “Now. I want you now.”

“We're in the library, Anders...and the door is open.”

He chuckled and slid her robe up over her hips, “Yes we are.” He slid her smalls down and off, tucking them into a pocket of his robe. “Anybody could walk in.” His hand slid over her flank and then between her thighs to cup her. “Anybody could hear you.” Her gasp was sudden in the room, his finger having slid between her folds to find her nub. “You'll need to be quiet or Bodahn might come looking for us.”

Marian's little growl had him laughing a bit. A spark from his finger and the growl turned to helpless gasping and soft mewls. She pressed her face into the fabric of the chair and wantonly rubbed herself back against his hand. It was erotic, her robe cascading over her hips, her skin so pale against the darker fabric, her legs open and her sex visible. He drew his finger up and to her entrance, the little spark of electricity making her writhe.

It was a moment to move his smalls and slide into her, a moment to drape himself over her back so he could whisper in her ear how much he loved her, desired her, couldn't live without her. His thrusts were unhurried, long and slow and were driving her insane. He bit her ear and laughed at her quiet cursing, holding her against the chair as he let both of their passions build, flare, twist, till she gave a quiet gasp and shuddered. He followed her, his breath hot on her neck as he pressed tightly against her, buried himself completely in her.

Slowly he stood, tucked himself away, and smoothed down her robe. When she didn't move, he gently helped her up and sat, tugging her onto his lap to cuddle. She was pink-cheeked and shy, burying her face against his chest. “What is it? Did I...did I cross a line?”

“I'm not wearing smalls.” She whispered to his chest.

“Ah,” was all he could think to say.

“We...in the library...with the door open...” She pressed her face harder against his chest.

“Yes. We did.” Anders wrapped his arms around her and cuddled her close.

“I liked it,” she giggled softly. “A lot.”

Anders relaxed and laughed with her, “Oh. Well then. I'll have to think of other places to do this. Maybe Varric's rooms? Or...I know...one of the little side rooms in the Chantry.”

“Anders!” Marian sat up, shock and amusement stamped on her face.

He laughed harder, “No Chantry? You're right. The Gallows. I know a little nook...”

She poked him and sighed, cuddled against him, “You're ridiculous.”

“Mmm...I am.” He seemed a little proud of that, “I'm glad I can still be ridiculous.”

She just shook her head. “I do love you, you impossible man.”

He exhaled and rested his head against hers, “I love you too. So very much.”


	60. Chapter 60

The courtyard that sat just below the Chantry was one of Marian's least favorite places. It ranked just below the Gallows in annoyance level. Unlike the Gallows – which possessed templars, tranquil mages, and an abundance of stress, the courtyard outside of the Chantry tended to have people needing help, Chantry Sisters preaching, and that one annoying man who always waved at her and tried to chat.

Marian really hated that man. On three separate occasions he had followed her home, serenading her the entire way. The last time had seen Anders march out there and prod the man with his staff repeatedly till Aveline showed up and forcibly removed the creep.

The only reason she was even IN the courtyard was because she had to pass through it to get to her destination – visiting an old friend of her mothers. She was dressed in polite visiting wear, Anders on her arm, and hoping to have a short visit that didn't involve discussion of marriages, engagements, babies, or her brother.

The woman walking up to her made her sigh. Just once, JUST ONCE she would like to walk through this blasted courtyard without somebody petitioning her for aid. She gave Anders a look when she heard, “Champion! Please, can we speak for a moment!” called out to her.

Anders grabbed her arm, “Wait, love. I think I know that woman.”

Marian gave another sigh, stopped, and watched as the woman hurried towards them. Dark haired, slender, pretty, and a little older than Marian, the woman wore a distinctly worried look on her face. “Champion, please. Can we talk a moment? I need your help!”

“Of course,” Marian kept her voice cordial. “And please, call me Hawke.”

“Hawke, right. Ok. I'm Delilah Howe...”

“That's where I know you from! You're Nathaniel's sister! Well put me in a dress and call me a templar, what are you doing here? How is Nathaniel?”

“Still a Warden. And missing in the Deep Roads,” Delilah's tone was full of her disapproval at Anders' tone of voice. “In fact, that's why I need you. It was your expedition that caused him to go down to the Deep Roads. He's been gone for a while, too long in fact, and I'm worried for him.”

“Nathaniel's a formidable archer, I'm sure he's fine. And why come all this way? Wouldn't Vigil's Keep have sent help?” Anders' face was a mask of worry.

“I was already here on business. There isn't time to send to the Keep for help. He could be dead by the time they send any help. Please Champion, please help my brother. You know the route; you could go down there and save him.” Delilah had turned imploring eyes on Marian.

Marian took Delilah's hands in hers and squeezed them, “I won't leave your brother down in the Deep Roads. I'll gather my companions and we'll sweep the trail we took. I'm sure we'll find him.”

“Oh thank you. Thank you!” Delilah sniffled and then straightened. “I'm staying not far from the market with some friends. Please, find me as soon as you return.”

Marian watched Delilah rush off, her hand straying to wipe tears from her eyes. She sighed deeply and looked at Anders. “So...a fellow warden friend. Wait...the Nathaniel that knew you back before the entire...Justice thing?”

“He knew Justice. They were close friends. We helped save Amaranthine together. Eavan...she...” Anders' face grew solemn. “Do we need to go to this luncheon?”

“No,” Marian murmured, taking in his distressed expression, “I'll send my regrets. Let's get home and talk.”

***

  
Marian had lit the fire in the sitting room and was currently curled up on the rub in front of it and watching Anders pace. She was trying to give him space, trying to let him tell her why he was so upset. So far, she was just getting a lot of deep sighs.

Finally, she reached out and touched his leg, halting his progress, “Alright, tell me about Nathaniel.”

He gave another sigh and joined her on the rug. In an uncharacteristic move, he pulled his knees to his chest and hugged his legs close to his body. “I met Nathaniel shortly after I joined the Wardens. He was a bitter man, consumed with hatred for Eavan. You see, Nathaniel's father was Arl Rendon Howe, a close companion to Loghain and one of the instigators of both the civil war and the city elves being sold into slavery.” At her surprised look, he nodded. “Yes, to fund their civil war, Loghain and Howe had started allowing Teventer slavers to come into the Alienage and...take...elves. Eavan stopped it. Her father had almost been taken. She took it personally from what I was told by Oghren. She swept through the Arl of Denerim's Keep and slayed pretty much everybody. Nathaniel, well, he didn't have the whole story. He'd been over here in the Free Marches at the time. He went to Vigil's Keep to kill Eavan.”

“And he's still alive?” Marian asked incredulously. “Why? How?”

“Eavan...she...” Anders blew out a breath and smiled, “She's a lot like you. She saw something in him, something that had her conscripting him into the Wardens. Boy was he mad, livid in fact. But what could he do? His fate had been sealed. He did the Joining and she immediately forced him to go with us on an expedition into the Deep Roads. Maker...that place...” Anders grew quiet for a moment, his eyes going hazy as he remembered Eavan and the trip. “Anyway, gradually, she won his respect. And then his friendship. She had a gift. You have it too.”

“I do not...what?” Marian looked shocked and embarrassed.

“Fenris? Sebastian? Isabela? You have met so many hard-headed, difficult people – me included – and we all love you. Would die for you. Would do anything for you. Eavan had that gift as well. None of us could refuse her. Our loyalty, our friendship...our love...we gave it to her freely. All that she ever asked was for us to stand with her. And we did – gladly. Wholeheartedly. If she had stayed in Command, I'd still be there.” Anders relaxed and opened his arms to her and Marian crawled to him and curled on his lap. “But she needed to go – had been summoned back to Denerim. And well...you know what happened with me.”

“So we'll go back into the Deep Roads and find this Nathaniel. Bring him home. Safely. He sounds like...a friend, Anders.”

“I don't know if we were...well no, we were. He never judged me based on being a mage. He only hated how free I was with the flirting, with the joking. Nathaniel was a stern man. But even still, we bonded. I suppose that was bound to happen – what with us all working to stem the flow of darkspawn and fighting in the Deep Roads.”

Anders grew quiet and cuddled her against him. She filled his arms and warmed him, grounded him. He could feel that part of him that was more Justice than Anders fretting over Nathaniel, fretting over the Deep Roads. It took them from their mission – but it was Nathaniel. They couldn't leave him. A deep breath and he could smell Marian and he calmed. She calmed him, reminded him of who he was.

“I hate the thought of you going back down there,” his voice shook.

“You'll be with me,” she twisted in his arms to pat his cheek. “I'm safe if you're there.”

“When do you want to go?” He tilted her face up to his and lowered his lips till they were hovering over hers. “How long till I have to worry about you catching blight sickness?”

“We'll leave tomorrow afternoon. I want to gather up Fenris and...” her voice was muffled as his lips covered hers and she surrendered to the kiss.

He pulled back a hair, just enough to whisper to her, “Stay behind me, love. I won't lose you to the darkspawn. Please. You are so wonderful for doing this, so loving, so...brave.”

Her lips curved into a smile, “I'll stand next to you, and we'll face it together. And we'll come back with Nathaniel safe and me unharmed. You'll see. You're so worried.”

“There is so much to fear in this world, Marian. Losing you...it would decimate me.”

“Then I suppose I'll have to be careful when we go.” She tugged him back into the kiss, melted against him and held him close. For a long while after there were only the sounds of their sighs and the popping of the fire.


	61. Chapter 61

The Deep Roads was as smelly and terrible as she remembered. The group strode ahead, eyes searching the shadows for any sign of the Wardens. She had brought Anders, Varric, and Fenris with her. She was reminded of their first delving through the Deep Roads and for a moment her breath caught in her lungs and she gasped for air.

But Anders was there to place a comforting hand on her back. Unlike their last trip, he was a little more in control, settled. She liked to think it was her influence. Well fed, rested, and with something to occupy his thoughts beyond the whispers of the darkspawn, Anders could focus on being a healer, being a protector. He walked just in front of her and refused to move.

She let him.

They had been down there for a week. It took about that long to even get to the Thaig. The group’s spirits were still high, banter light and easy between them, despite the atmosphere. Marian watched as Varric poked Fenris and joked with him, the elf answering back with only a slight growl. She was just about to butt into their conversation when Anders slowed.

“What is it? Darkspawn?” Her voice was quiet in the gloom, nearly a whisper.

Anders shook his head and tilted it, closed his eyes, and then opened them with a smile, “No, we’ve found him.” He turned and concentrated, then pointed in a direction. “That way. He’s that way and there are some other Wardens with him.”

Marian pondered the direction, their last trek down here, and then possible routes and then nodded at an arch partway down the corridor, “Then we’ll take that arch. It should lead us to him.” Anders pondered the arch and nodded. With a look at Fenris and Varric, Marian headed towards the arch and their missing wardens.

***

  
The fire lit the small camp and wavered in the breeze. The first night back above ground and Anders was lounging in front of the fire with a self-satisfied look on his face. They had found Nathaniel. He had been unharmed and right put-out that his sister didn’t trust in his abilities. His face when Anders appeared had been…satisfyingly comedic. Anders hadn’t quite realized how much he had missed all of his companions from Vigil’s Keep. Seeing Nathaniel made him wonder about Sigrun, Velanna, and Oghren. He wondered if Sigrun was still alive, if Velanna had ever come back from her last jaunt to the wilderness…if Oghren was still drunk.

He leaned back on his arms and looked up at the stars, his lips curving into a smile as he remembered the last time he and Marian had braved the Deep Roads. Back when their relationship was still new, still young and tender. He tilted his head back to see her come out of their tent and stop, her eyes taking in his shirtless state. He let himself fall back to the ground and then roll to his side, propping his head on his hand, “Hello, love. Like what you see?”

There was a distinct snort and grumble from the other side of the fireplace. Fenris had come out of his tent at the same time as Nathaniel and both stood on the opposite side of the fire, both wearing looks of disdain. Anders waggled his eyebrows at Marian. She just laughed. “I do and you know it. Going to finally show me Anders’ Spicy Shimmy, then?”

“Maker,” muttered Nathaniel, “Don’t even suggest it. I haven’t missed that little dance.”

“Oh? Are you sure? You seem to have gotten even more dour since I last saw you, Nathaniel. Perhaps a quick cavort around the fire will help elevate your mood?” Anders rolled to his feet and started unlacing his trousers.

“Wait…”Fenris covered his eyes with his hand, “He did this when you knew him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Nathaniel shot Fenris a look of sheer annoyance, “Anders is the biggest flirt and tease in Thedas. There wasn’t a single delve into the deeps that didn’t result in him getting drunk, naked, and dancing around the fire. We all knew the Commander put up with it because…” He didn’t get to finish his statement, Anders had gone stiff, his eyes glowing straight blue, “Maker’s Breath. What…what have you done?”

Marian shook her head at Nathaniel and went to Anders, wrapping her arms around him, “Come back to me, love. Come back to me. He didn’t mean it. He doesn’t know. There’s no injustice here, love. Nothing that needs smiting.” She murmured softly against his chest, pressing against him.

He gave a shudder and went limp. She guided him back to the ground and sat behind him, her arms wrapping around his chest. “I’m sorry. Sorry. The thought…I couldn’t...You know I don’t love her like you. But being in the Deep Roads. Seeing Nathaniel. For a moment I was back there with her.”

“Anders, what was that?” Nathaniel had approached them, settling on the ground near enough for Marian to see the shock in his eyes. “For a moment, I swore I could see Justice.”

“Remember how you spoke to him of sharing a living body?” Anders looked away, his hands twisting restlessly. “We did it.”

“No. Maker no. Why? Is this why you left so suddenly?”

“I left because the templars that blighted commander stuck on me named me maleficar. They were going to kill me or put me back in the tower.”

Nathanial rubbed his face with his hands, “I didn’t know. I swear it. You’re a Warden. The Chantry had no right to you. Are you alright?”

“I have good days and bad. Better days now that I’m with Marian. She helps. She knows about Eavan, Nathaniel. Knows what happened. If Eavan knew…would she send me back?” Anders face was a mask of distress.

“The Commander? She’d as soon burn down the Circle than deal with it. More likely to conscript the lot of them and put the templars to work cleaning out the Deep Roads. If she’d stayed in charge, well…that’s neither here nor there. I never did full approve of your relationship with her. That being said, I’m sorry it ended the way it did. I can’t imagine loving a woman who is owned by the King.”

“She’s not owned!” Anders fretted. “She loves him. She’s…what have you heard? Is she ok? Did he hurt her? Maker…he was just here…”

“Calm down Anders, she’s fine. Last word I got was that she was in hiding, aided by her King. She sends me coded messages from time to time, delivered by an Antivan Crow of all things. She’s asked if I had news of you. Should I tell her?”

Anders fretted more and Marian pressed harder against his back. “I don’t want to worry her.”

“Tell her he’s engaged. He’s in Kirkwall and runs a clinic for the refuges. He’s fighting the Chantry and doing good work. And he’s engaged to the Champion.” Marian said. She rubbed her cheek against Anders’ back, “If you think she’d want to know, tell her about Justice. Better she hear from you than through rumor.”

She looked up when Fenris sat down. He leaned forward and gazed at Anders, “Tell her that he has braved the Deep Roads three times now for his friends.” Anders and Marian blinked at him, shock covering their faces. “What?”

“You said something nice about me…” Anders stuttered, disbelief mirrored on this face. He glanced up at the sky, “Is the world ending?”

“You are not as funny as you think, abomination. I only spoke the truth. Should I also add that you are insufferable, conceited, possessed, and dangerous as well?”

“Oh well, and there’s the Fenris I know. I thought maybe you had Blight sickness or had become possessed yourself. Or had a head wound.” Anders opened his eyes wide at Fenris. “Glad to see it was just a momentary lapse. Wouldn’t want us to become friends or anything.”

“Perish the thought,” Fenris muttered.

Nathaniel watched the bi-play and looked at Marian, “Are they always like this?”

Varric sauntered from his tent, a bottle in one hand and a deck of cards in the other, “Are you shitting me? This is downright social for them. You should see them on a normal day. Hawke here has practically murdered them on ten separate occasions.”

“Eleven,” murmured Marian, a smile teasing her lips. “They are rather…juvenile.”

“Hah! Good one, Hawke. Alright you four, who wants to play some Wicked Grace? And oh look, a bottle of whiskey in my bag. Drinks on me tonight.” Varric plunked down, placed the bottle next to him, and started shuffling the cards. The group moved closer together, each of them joining in the game. Anders watched Nathaniel organize his hand and felt that twinge of something in him settle.

Friends, he thought, never go away. He hadn’t been forgotten. By Nathaniel or by Eavan. He glanced over at Marian, her face a mask of concentration, and felt himself relax. He hadn’t been forgotten, and he was loved. He was alive. All that would happen in the future would happen. For tonight, he would let himself be happy to be alive, remembered, and loved.


	62. Chapter 62

Marian had hoped to come back to Kirkwall and find the entire city a little more relaxed. She knew it was a fantasy, a dream born of desperation and the nagging suspicion that she really was going to have to burn down the city to get the entire unrest to finally settle. 

She had been right. They had left for the Deep Roads almost three weeks ago. She stepped back into Kirkwall and found herself immediately pulled in a multitude of directions. So she had unpacked, given Bodahn general guidelines on what to do if rioting started up outside of the mansion (have Sandal throw one of his Booms into the street), had lectured Anders on not sleeping in his clinic (on pains of her marching down there and dragging him home), and threw herself bodily into fixing everybody's problems.

Isabela's long-time enemy, Castillon, had finally made an appearance. Through a little spying, a little threatening, and a lot of punching – they found him. And after a quick duel, Isabella was the proud owner of one ship and Marian found herself putting out a contract on Castillon to keep him from going after Isabela.

She had braved Bartrand's haunted mansion – and she never wanted to do that again – to rescue a single shard of that blasted statue. After nearly prying it from Varric's hands, she had brought it home and dropped it in front of Sandal. The dwarf had looked at it, looked at her, snatched it up and wandered off to create something not-quite-so-terrible with it. She had spent two days waiting to see if the house would explode before he brought her back a rune. No Booms and she had gained a fancy new rune for her staff. All's well that end's well, she thought.

And then Merrill had come to visit. Nearly in tears, the little elf told had her she was at her wits end and needed to go back to the Dalish camp, back to the cave that had housed the demon she made a bargain with. Anders had nearly had an apoplectic fit at that. Marian had sent Merrill home and then listened to Anders rant for three hours about demons, possession, blood-mages, and naive little elves who should know better. In the end, Justice had made an appearance and Marian had been forced to get in his face. She won, barely. But Anders had been left shaken and sick from the entire ordeal and Marian had been swamped with guilt.

They had left three days later, a group of them climbing Mount Sundermount once again. Finding the cave had been the easy part. It was what they found in the cave that had been...heartbreaking. Marethari had taken the demon into herself, had allowed herself to be possessed in order to “save Merrill.” Marian wasn't so sure she wanted to argue with the demon-possessed Keeper, but it sounded like somebody had fallen prey to a Demon's enticement. 

They had fought. And in the end, Anders' had held Merrill as Marian exorcised the demon the only way she knew how – she killed the Keeper. 

Trekking down Sundermount, a broken and sobbing Merrill held by Anders, his face tight and lips clenched together to keep from lecturing, they ran into a group of elves. All demanding to know what happened. Armed, angry, they had threatened Merrill...had threatened them...and Marian had opened her mouth and had closed it.

No good could come from antagonizing them.

Instead, she had looked at them and proclaimed herself the Keeper's killer and that Merrill was under her protection. Leaning on her staff, her eyes weary and her robes bloody, she had taken Merrill's guilt on as her own. The elves had exiled Merrill and allowed them to leave.

It was the best she could have hoped for.

She was running on empty when they returned. She had stashed Merrill in a guest room, met with Aveline about some vile rumors running rampant, and had sent out Varric to find information. It hadn’t taken much to find the source of the problem – the old guard captain, Jeven, was stirring up trouble. As if the city needed more. She had taken a step back and let Aveline deal with it. And when that had been finished, Marian had marched Aveline to the Gallows where both of them had ripped in to the Knight-Captain.

Now she lay curled up in bed, her head resting on her arms, and thought about Kirkwall. She thought about the billion-staired city that she called home. She thought about Bethany, about all that beautiful potential that had been smashed because of one wrong step. One miscalculation. She thought of her brother, her big lug of a brother, dressed in the shiny armor of the templars. She thought of her mother. Her mother who had grieved first her husband’s death, then her daughter’s. Who had had to flee her home to return to a city that was so changed, to fortunes much reduced. Who had watched her son join an order that the entire family had spent decades working to avoid. Who had flourished when Marian came back from the Deep Roads. Who had died the puppet of a madman. 

The tears leaked from her eyes. This city took. She gave and gave and it kept taking. The money, the estate, the title…all of it was worth nothing. Her family was gone. Even Carver couldn’t be counted on anymore. The nobles were petty, the Chantry lacked leadership, and every day, Meredith grew in power. Every day, Marian worried a little more about Anders’ safety, about her own. How much longer until Meredith decided she was powerful enough to imprison her? How much longer did she have until she found herself in the hated Circle robes?

Anders found her there, her face pressed tightly to the bed as her shoulders heaved. The strain of the city was breaking her and he knew that he would be the one to finish it. His actions, his plans, his…necessary steps…would be what would drive his compassionate, wonderful, loving Marian into madness. And it was too late to stop. There was so little time left. For any of them. 

His mind whirled back to when he first met her. How young she had looked. How earnest and sweet. Her ramblings, her blushes, her hugs…his confusion at why anybody like her would look twice at him. The long, slow fall into love that had marked every day from that moment. That one moment that lived in his mind, Marian lit by the sunlight that traversed his poor clinic’s floor. The windows gleaming in the mid-day light. Time had stopped when she had stepped into his clinic. 

And now he was out of time. Justice’s needs and his had led him to this point. And all he could do was mourn the fact that he wanted one more day with her. One more day to hold her, to comfort her, to see her smile. One more day to say “I love you” and hear her respond “I love you too.”

He went to her, pulled her from her huddle and into his arms. If he couldn’t have a day, he’d hold her tonight. And tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow would be what it was. It would happen soon. Tomorrow…the next day…no more than week. He could feel the tension. It was coiled tightly, so tightly that just one brush, one tiny touch, would cause the entire spring to explode. 

He held his love, the woman who had saved him, and prayed fervently to the Maker that what he did…what he had been driven to do…would not be her ending. He prayed that the only person who would suffer would be him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter is the beginning of the end of Act 3. The last chapters in the story will be posted next week. 
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr under Warriormaggie
> 
> I am always up for chats!


	63. Chapter 63

The light was crystal clear the next day. The sky was free of clouds, bright blue and glorious. The air was soft with the beginnings of Fall – crisp and clean and fresh. It allowed her perfect clarity as she watched Meredith and Orsino push together, nose to nose, and scream on the marketplace steps in Lowtown. She rubbed at her forehead, the sound of their arguing rising in waves. It was the same old argument, the same old problems hashed out again and again. Only, there was a new tenor to it, a new tone of malice and hate that rode Meredith’s voice. A new ping of desperation coloring Orsino’s words.

She was just about to step forward when Anders did, his face a terrible mask. His eyes flashed blue, brown, blue…brown…blue…held. His voice crackled and the full might of Justice came into him, over him. She moved to touch him when there was a cracking noise…a sudden cessation of sound followed by a sharp inhale and then the rolling thunder of a massive explosion. The sky lit with bright red light that shot straight up from the Chantry, straight into the sky with such force that Marian was knocked back and off her feet. The city trembled, righted itself, stood in shock, and then the cascading waves of power washed over them and the Chantry exploded.

It was gone.

A smoking ruin in Hightown.

Debris rained down through the city and Anders looked at Meredith and Orsino, his eyes blue, his voice unearthly, and said “ _I removed the chance of compromise, because there can BE no compromise_.”

“Anders…” Marian breathed out, “What…what have you done?”

“What needed to be done. What you know had to be done.”

“This…this APOSTATE has killed the Grand Cleric! Gather the troops! We march on the Gallows at once! This will not stand. This cannot stand. We invoke the Right of Annulment. Orsino, you have till I reach the Gallows to gather your mages. We are coming in full force for you all.” Meredith screamed, her face a vivid red.

“No…no! Meredith. This was…this was the plot of one mad man. One apostate. Not even a Circle mage. You can’t…” Orsino begged, held out his hands in supplication.

“I CAN and I WILL!” Meredith turned to glare at Marian, “I leave his fate in your hands. He’s your lover. You put him down.” And with that, she turned and swept from Lowtown.

Marian went to Orsino, took his hands in hers, “Run. Go. I will meet you in the Gallows. If Meredith wants a fight, we will give her one.”

“Champion…”

“Go! I will meet you there. Maker guide you.” She watched him turn and wave at his mages and then take off running. Her eyes were drawn back to the smoke-filled ruins of the Chantry. Charred, burning embers still floated down like flaming snowflakes. The smell of ruin and fire kissed everything. Her gaze widened as she took in the destruction, the sudden devastation thrust into the heart of Kirkwall.

City of Chains no more, she thought as she turned to find Anders. And there he was, hunched on a crate, his head held between his hands, his feathered pauldrons fluttering in the weak breeze. She closed her eyes, pain jabbing her straight through the heart. This was what he had been struggling with. This was the secret. She had told him to not tell her, begged him to not share, and railed at him for keeping it. Fought him and loved him. And now he sat hunched on that crate as if he had already been sentenced…to die…

She gasped and staggered. That was it. He expected her to kill him. To put a blade to him. He had done this…had seen every day that compromise wouldn’t work. Had watched her drag herself home after every job, after every setback, and had known that there could be no peaceful solution. He had tried peaceful. She had tried diplomacy. She had…she…Marian groaned and grabbed at her head. How many times had she said the city needed to burn?

The laugh that bubbled from her was hysterical. _Not enough if he only blew up the Chantry_ , her mind tittered. _He should have thought bigger and taken out the Keep for good measure_.

She was in shock, guilt-ridden, heavy-hearted, and deeply saddened. She straightened and went to him and found herself stopped by Sebastian. His hands gripped her shoulders and he held her there, his face ashen and eyes filled with grief.

“Hawke…Marian…you need to kill him. He…he…Elthina. Maker help me, she’s gone. She was…she was like a mother to me.” Sebastian’s voice broke.

“Sebastian…oh no…I’m…” Marian pulled from his grasp and wrapped her arms around him, “I have no words…”

“He needs to pay for this. For the death. For the destruction. He blew up the Chantry, Hawke! The Chantry!”

“I know,” Marian murmured. “But I can’t…”

She pulled from Sebastian and went to Anders, her hand settling on his shoulder. Anders started and then tensed, curled in on himself, “You need to Marian. I killed people today. I blew up the Chantry. It’s only right that I die.”

Her hand tightened on his shoulder and she glanced back at her friends, all of them shuffling, all of them looking anywhere but at her. “And the rest of you?”

“He…Maker’s breath, Hawke, he blew up the Chantry,” Aveline said.

Fenris shook his head, “He is dangerous.”

“That was a bit extreme, hmm?” Isabela asked, her eyes on the fires.

“It’s your call, Hawke. Always has been.” Varric said.

Merrill shrugged, “It was an ugly building filled with horrible people.” Everybody turned to look at her and she shrugged again, “What? It was!”

“Hawke. You must kill him. If you don’t…if you don’t…I’ll be forced to go back to Starkhaven. I’ll raise an army. There will be no safe port for you. We will hunt you down.” Sebastian’s voice had gone cold, hard.

Marian squeezed Anders’ shoulder again and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Remember what I told you? I love you, Anders. No matter what. Through anything.” His head came up and he turned to look at her, “My life with you is all I’ve wanted. Not a fancy house in Hightown. Not the title of Champion. Not anything that this city…this Maker dammed city…can give me.” She straightened and turned to look at all her friends, “I have bled for you, sacrificed for you. Killed in your names. I have killed so much. So many. You speak of Anders’ being a murderer, well, I have taken out more dwarves, men, Qunari and elves in your names than Anders here did today. And if you think…if you think for one moment I will murder him to satisfy your guilt. Then we have never been friends.”

Sebastian stepped forward, his face nearly burgundy with anger. Marian swung to him and lifted her staff, “No Sebastian. I was there for you through everything. I killed for you too. I spoke to Elthina many times. I begged her…BEGGED HER…to step in. And she wouldn’t. Nobody would. Anders did what I’ve wanted to do more times than I care to think about. And I will allow none of you to have his life for it.”

“You’ve made your decision,” Sebastian said. “I have followed you for six years Hawke. I trusted you, loved you. Stood for you. But…I can’t….not now.”

“We all have to make a stand for something, Sebastian.” Marian said. “I’m standing with Anders.”

“Then I can’t stand with you anymore. Run fast and far, Hawke. I will be looking for you.” He turned to leave, anger in every movement.

“Sebastian!” Marian called out, watched as he stopped but didn’t turn around, “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry. You’ve been a friend, a good one. Maker go with you.”

“And with you, Hawke,” his voice heavy with regret.

She watched him go, watched the rest of the group shuffle and stay, and then turned to Anders. “I won’t kill you. I love you. I won’t be the one to end your life. No, you have a life to live. And when that life is done, when the taint becomes too much, then we have a date with the Deep Roads. Your life doesn’t end here, Anders.” She moved to stand in front of him, “You stood with me through so much. Please Anders…just…we could die defending the Gallows. I don’t want to go to my death without you.”

He stood, took a halting step forward, and crushed her to him. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered against her hair. “I never have.”

“You’ve deserved better than what life has thrown our way. Let’s end this so we can go find a quiet place to live. Someplace without so many stairs, so much stone.”

He pulled back and looked at her, seemed to want to say something, and then shook his head. He traced a finger over her chin, looked into her eyes, and nodded. “Alright Marian. One more fight then.”

“Till the end, Anders.” She said.

“Till the end.”


	64. Chapter 64

And in the end, they won – survived. They rallied the mages and met the templars head-on. Some of the mages fell to templars’ swords and some to possession – Orsino included. It was with a heavy heart that Marian killed him. She had heard his confession about helping the serial murderer with his research – the madman who had killed her mother. Death, she felt, was just in this case.

They battled through the Gallows till they reached the stairs. And there, they were confronted by Meredith. And there, they found the source of her madness. The tainted lyrium brought back from the Deep Roads had been forged into a sword…and she had bought it.

The fight had been brutal. Vicious. Carver stood with her, as did the Knight-Captain. Looking around, she also saw Zevran the Crow and Nathaniel. How they had gotten there and why didn’t matter. Her and her friends had their hands full with animated statues and Meredith’s powerful attacks.

None of them had killed Meredith. The sword…the red lyrium sword…had fragmented and consumed her. Had encased her in a hard shell of pure red lyrium. Smoking with power and emanating hate, the statue crouched at the foot of the Gallows like a gleaming red golem.

Marian and her friends walked from the Gallows after that, Carver on one side of her and Anders on the other. And that was it. She was done with Kirkwall. Was done being their champion. Was done fighting for others, done running errands, done being the go-to person. She looked at her friends, told Isabela to prime her ship for sailing, and went home to pack.

Nobody dared stop her in the streets.

It was a quiet evening when the Champion of Kirkwall set sail. Bags packed and stowed, Dodger at her feet, Sunshine in their cabin, Marian stood on the main deck and watched as Isabela maneuvered them away from Kirkwall. Anders came to stand with her, his arm slipping around her waist.

“I’m sorry, Marian. Sorry I ruined everything.”

“Oh pish,” Marian said, her head resting on his shoulder, “The only thing you ruined was the skyline. Look, there’s a gaping hole in Hightown now. Looks like the city is missing a tooth.”

“How can you be so…flippant…about this?” Anders shook with nerves, “How can you so readily forgive me?”

Marian twisted and wrapped her arms around him, her voice hard with sarcasm and annoyance, “Oh, I’m sorry. I suppose I should be mad at you for blowing up part of Hightown without my help. They deserved it. They deserve worse. They’re lucky I left the Gallows standing. Kirkwall should be razed to the rock, its ashes scattered, and the site left barren. It sits on a warren of Teventer Magister tunnels filled with unnatural power, has more blood mages than any place I’ve heard of, and has a possessed red lyrium statue in front the Circle. It’s a horrible place filled with terrible people. Merrill spoke true words there.”

“Mm…” Anders murmured at her rant. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“You should be,” Marian sniffed. “From now on, you tell me the truth. You want to go liberate mages, fine. But we go together. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am,” he murmured again, his head resting against hers. “I love you, you know.”

“Mmm…I do…Orana doing ok?”

“Yes. I got her squared away. You think Varric will be alright in Kirkwall?” Anders rubbed his hands against her back.

“Yeah, he’s going to keep an eye on Sebastian for me. Keep me apprised of that problem.”

“I…”

“Don’t say it. Sebastian and I never saw eye to eye on a lot of things, but he was still my friend. He made a decision and I have to respect that. Even if it hurts. Even if it’s to hunt us down.”

“And where will we go?” Anders pulled back to look into her eyes, “No place will be safe. We’ll be hunted.”

“Together. We’ll be hunted together. We’ll sail for a bit and then we’ll walk our way to Ferelden. I do have an invite from the King himself to settle. I’ll get word to him and see. He’s pretty…hmm...mage friendly. Think you’ll be ok in Ferelden?”

“As long as it’s not the Circle…yes…” He tilted her chin up, “One day…one day someone like you will love someone like me and there will nothing to keep them apart. No templars, no circle…no fear. They’ll get married, have children, raise them…like everybody else.”

Marian smiled, “It’s a pretty sentiment. But it’s not just a future dream. I love you, you love me. We’re together. We survived Kirkwall. All the fighting, all the loss, all the pain…”

He touched his lips to hers. “One day at a time.”

“Yes, one day at a time.” She rested her head on his chest and watched the sun slip beyond the horizon. The city faded from view, the future stretched before them. She faced it wrapped in her lover’s arms, loved, happy…secure.

And Anders kept his gaze on Marian, the light of his life. No more would he use the light from dirty Darktown windows to mark the time. No more would the sunlight filter through Hightown glass to taunt him. No, from now on he’d mark his days with her smiles, her love. He had gone to Kirkwall to save a friend and try to make a difference, a man at war with himself, empty and alone. Split.

He left it wrapped in his lover’s arms: loved, remembered, wanted…his mind finally one. Justice and he had fully merged, the spirit’s needs coursing through him with his own. And for once, there was no need to fight who he was or what his purpose was. She had shown him that, had given him that little bit of happiness necessary to help him heal. There would be fights still. Justice to dispense. Injustice to root out. But he wasn't alone. He wasn't forgotten. He was loved, accepted. And if a small part of him screamed that he shouldn't be alive, well, he had the rest of his life to atone.

The ship sailed away from Kirkwall. And Marian and Anders faced the future together wrapped in each other’s arms.


	65. Chapter 65

**Epilogue**

  
The Shaper had been a bit taciturn, polite but taciturn. Still, despite his stern face, his eyes had twinkled when he had read them their vows, when he had blessed them over bare stone, when he had recorded their names as husband and wife. The ceremony had been simple, just a few words spoken, vows and rings exchanged. They had promised to love one another, to honor one another, and to stand with each other when the time came to venture to the beyond. Marian would never have a Calling, but Anders…Anders would. And she had vowed that he would end his life with her by his side. He had wanted to argue over that vow, but she had overruled him. As she did so often when it came to things such as his death.

When the Shaper had turned from recording their names, a slight smile nearly hidden behind all that beard, the group behind them gave a short cheer. That their friends could be here, even if it wasn’t all of them, made the day that much more special. Carver and Merrill, Aveline and Donnic, Varric, King Alistair and Eavan. It had been the King’s doing. He had made sure word had gotten to them, had made sure they were welcomed into Orzammar. Made sure they could leave and return unharmed. Isabela and Fenris were out on the open water somewhere. A note had reached them wishing them much luck and love, but the pirate wasn’t willing to head to Ferelden. Fenris had penned a short note, his handwriting still shaky, and sent his love. Sebastian had been told…but not the particulars. Not the where or when. Just that…just that they were happy and in love. If his hatred of Anders still burned bright, well, it was best he not know how to find them.

They kissed, the look on Anders’ face making Marian’s heart sing. He looked…at peace…for once. It wouldn’t last. He’d be driven to help again, driven to make a difference, and she was alright with that. But for today, the weight of the past slipped from his shoulders and he was happy. She squeezed him, so thankful to have him with her still. Despite Justice, despite Kirkwall, despite the running and the nights hiding in caves, the templar fights and the fear, she was just so happy to have him with her.

“Alright! I say we move this celebration to Tapsters for some good old Dwarven Ale and celebration!” Alistair stood and clapped his hands. Varric mumbled something about the ale being mostly rock and lichen and got a sturdy back slap for it. Alistair grinned down at the dwarf, “Oh, it’s not all bad. Right love?”

Eavan shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “Just mind the floating bits of lichen and it’s alright. Go on. Take this rowdy crew with you. I’d like a moment with the bride.”

“Should we be afraid, love? You and Hawke together alone? Planning on taking over a small country?” Alistair dodged a half-hearted punch and pulled her against him, bent to press a soft but affectionate kiss to her lips. “Teasing. I’ll take the groom with me. Anders, let’s let them talk. Maker knows, it’s best if we don’t hear it.”

Anders looked down at Marian, touched a finger to her cheek. “Don’t be long. I…don’t be long. I love you.”

Marian smiled, pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, “Nobody will take me here. I promise you that. I love you too.”

She watched him go to Alistair, the King draping a broad arm over the mage’s shoulder. Marian glanced at Eavan and saw the woman staring at the two men, her eyes filling with tears and a hand over her mouth. She quickly moved to Eavan and tugged her into a hug. “Shh, don’t let the King see you crying.”

Eavan clung to her for a moment and then nodded. “Tell me when they’re gone.”

“They are. You’re her, then? Eavan Tabris? Hero of Ferelden and Commander of the Grey?”

Eavan brushed a hand over her eyes and offered a smile. “Just Eavan. I never did like the titles. Don’t listen to Alistair. He’s a bear about it. I guess Anders told you about me, hm? About…us…”

Marian wrapped her arms around her waist and nodded. “I didn’t like you for a long time. He was so…damaged…when I met him. So lost. So alone. So hurt. And he still wears the pendant.” Her eyes grew sad, “He loved you. Still does.”

“I’m sorry,” Eavan whispered.

“Does Alistair know?”

“Oh no. No. It would devastate him. No. Anders and I…” Eavan blew out a breath.

“I think I fell in love with him the minute I saw him,” Marian murmured. “I tried so hard that first year to put it out of my mind, to ignore the attraction. But, well, how do you ignore that? We were friends first. Close friends. And then more. He’s been there for me almost the entire time I was in Kirkwall.”

Eavan laughed a little, “Yes. He’s very…well. Did he tell you how we first met? I was fighting off a darkspawn invasion. I broke into a room – it had cells for holding prisoners – and there he was just setting them on fire. His first words to me were, “I didn’t do it.”” Eavan laughed again. “He was so tall, so blond, so handsome and flirty. And then I got to know him and he wasn’t flirty or funny but sad and scared and…he…I was so lost, Marian. So alone. So scared. So…hurt. And Anders just…he just…”

“He’s a healer.” Marian said simply.

“Look, I didn’t want to just talk to you about Anders. I had a proposition for you.” Eavan took Marian’s hand and led her to a small alcove. “I know you two are hunted and it’s not safe for you. But I have a small homestead in the Bannorn. It’s near a town, but not so close to get Chantry involvement. The templars leave me alone, they know better than to trespass on my land. I don’t like them and I refuse to suffer their presence. I only had to beat up five of them to get them to see it my way. The point is, it’s quiet, it’s remote, and it’s chantry-free. It’s not a huge homestead, but big enough to stick another cottage on. Big enough that you and Anders could hide there. I…want you to accept this offer. You would be free to come and go as you please. It would be your home till…till Anders…the King comes out there every few months to stay. And of course, I go to Denerim to see him.”

Marian watched Eavan fidget, “You’re serious? You would do this?”

“Marian…what Anders did…it started something. It spurred change. Dangerous change. There isn't going to be a safe place soon. Alistair, he won’t give in to Chantry demands. He won’t even allow the Prince of Starkhaven, your Sebastian, to cross his borders to look for Anders. He doesn’t want to embroil Ferelden in a war that he feels was started by Kirkwall, by their Knight Commander. You’d be able to hide here. And Anders could do his work as he needed to. Just…think about it…”

“I don’t have to. He always said you were a savior to him. And he loves you. I’d be a fool to not accept this. Just…he’s mine.”

That made Eavan smile. “I’m not the woman I was then, Marian.” She raised a hand, two small gold bands adorning one finger. “This one was from my first betrothed, Nelaros, who died trying to save me. And this is Alistair’s. We were recognized by the Shaperate a few years ago. The nobles don’t know. Alistair wears his ring around his neck on a chain. No, you don’t need to worry about that. I am…happy. For once in my life. I’m happy.”

“Then we accept.” Marian squeezed Eavan’s hand.

***

Tapster’s was in full swing when they got there. Varric had put off his distrust of Orzammar to start telling stories. Aveline was arguing with him over one of them, Donnic laughing at her as she prodded the dwarf in his chest. Merrill was curled against Carver, her face animated as she threw out suggestions and laughed. Alistair and Anders had their heads together, talking about Eavan and Marian, Wardens, and Ferelden.

Marian and Eavan stopped to watch them, the two men noticing them after a moment. Anders’ eyes slid over Eavan and something blue flashed in his gaze. For a moment, Eavan was held still by the emotions swirling there. He stood and went to her, wrapped his hands around her shoulders and looked down at her, just looked at her, and it was like something inside of him eased and healed. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and then turned to Marian. His Marian, who opened her arms and pulled him to her. His shelter in the storm of life.

Eavan looked at them and then felt Alistair’s arms wrap around her, tugging her against his broad chest. “You missed him.” His voice was quiet, a little pained.

“I missed you.” She responded. “I love you.”

Marian watched Alistair lift Eavan, carry her back to the table to cuddle. She felt Anders lips on her cheek and smiled. “How would like to live in the Bannorn?”

“I’ll live anywhere as long as you are there, you know that.”

She tilted her head and looked at him, thought about Kirkwall – the City of Chains, the City of Stairs, a clinic with high windows that marked the time by the way the sunlight traveled over the scarred floors. Thought of a hovel in Lowtown and a mansion in Hightown, the smell of the sea and the smell of rot, the laughter and the blood and the tears. A coat with feathered pauldrons. A grave alone in the Amell garden bearing her mother’s name. A City that had taken so much from her – and yet had given her this man. She looked at him and smiled. “I do.” Was all she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who read this entire thing, who posted Kudos, who left comments, who sent me messages on Tumblr - Thank you. Really. Thank you.
> 
> This is, to date, the longest work I've ever written. It's been the most emotional as well. I spent a lot of time sitting in Anders' head, trying to decide how to write him, how to write Marian - how to handle my feelings on the game. 
> 
> So a big thank you to all the readers. I write to express myself, to share my own thoughts on the game, and to make people happy. :D
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr as Warriormaggie. I am always open to messages/asks.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Apostate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024196) by [NCPanthersgurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCPanthersgurl/pseuds/NCPanthersgurl)




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